


Snake Eater

by aybeexinfinity



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Apple of Eden (Assassin's Creed), Assassin Brotherhood, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Smut, assassin sisterhood, follows a bit of the plot of the first game, obvi rewrites altair's canon marriage/kids situation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29316060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aybeexinfinity/pseuds/aybeexinfinity
Summary: I give my lifeNot for honor, but for youIn my time there'll be no one elseCrime, it's the way i fly to youI'm still in a dream, snake eater= = = = =My best friend relinquish_one_bullet and I collaborated on creating lore around a sisterhood of assassins that fits into the AC universe. Big thanks to her for all the incredible ideas! I started writing this years ago (2013) but recently remembered it existed sooooo I'm posting what I've written here in hopes it'll help me finish it.
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Homestead

“If you don’t pay attention, you’ll be _kasrs_ forever. Now _watch carefully_.” Mualimina Saffiya moved slowly at first, letting the girls take note of her stance and positions as she spun around and pierced the throat of the straw-filled sack. Without hesitation she moved to the next one, and the one after that, delivering a kill shot to three targets in the time it took to count them. Turning back to the group of _kasrs_ she called one forward and handed her a blade.  
  
“Have they been sorted yet?” Yasmine asked as she came up beside me. We were watching from the back of the practice arena, the candles lining the wall casting dancing shadows onto the stone ceiling. Despite being in this place for my entire life, sometimes I still had trouble being underground. It was one of the things that made my sorting easiest, according to the Hakeema. My desire to be up high, my ability to disappear, to remain unseen and silent as I wished—the qualities of _air_.  
  
“Saffiya said the ceremony is happening tonight.” I explained as the girl followed in the mualimina’s footsteps. She had fierce strength and delivered each blow almost perfectly. She had a controlled fury in the way that she moved; exactly the kind of determination that was required for the assassins of the Aeterna sisterhood. “This one is fire, mark my words.”  
  
“She’s got a bit of earth in her as well.” Yasmine challenged, nudging me. “But you’re right. Imagine what she could do with a torch in hand.”  
  
“Rule number three: Never bask in the death of an enemy.” I recited the words I had learned so many years ago, the backbone and framework that held the sisterhood together. Yasmine just laughed at me, mumbling something about the fact that if there was a group for stone, I would be in it. Stubborn and rigid.  
  
As I watched the girls go up and fight—their ages ranging from ten to sixteen—I wondered if any of them remembered their life before this. The Aeterna was only made up of those who had no other place in society. The girls found their way into brothels whether by force or need—orphans, widows, refugees, castaways—and they were given a choice. They could be trained to fight back against the society that let them down, or continue to serve it. Most chose the easier path, but the few who accepted began training immediately.  
  
It was by no means an easy task. Rigorous training left you exhausted for the first few months, and once you got used to the pain the Hakeema—the elders who guided us and made the decisions—found new ways to mold you, new ways to make you grow. We were educated about the world that we would eventually set out to change, to protect, to keep in balance. Even if these girls thought that they could fathom the most difficult of their tasks, they were wrong. There was a final test, once the Mualimina who taught the girls deemed they were ready.  
  
“Ariyah!” I turned from watching the girls to the source of the voice. Jamila was running down the hall towards me. She was the latest girl to be called a sister and at fifteen years she was only two years older than I was when the Hakeema presented me with my honourary dagger. “Ariyah, the Hakeema asked me to summon you to the library.”  
  
“Thank you, habiba.” I touched my hand to her arm and left her with Yasmine before worming my way through the underground halls. The base was always underground, no matter what city it was in. It was safer that way.  
  
The library was almost as big as the arena and filled wall to wall with books and maps of the surrounding countries. In the centre of the circular room were a series of marble tables, one of which three of the five Hakeema sat around. They had silver hoods on their robes and a band of silver powder that ran across their eyes and nose. It was a mark of their rank, wisdom, and authority. It was in stark contrast with my red hood. Once a sister reached of age, they could choose to be a _mualesh_ —trained in the arts of healing—a Mualimina, or a Hakeema.  
  
“Asalmu-alaikum.” I bowed my head slightly before standing up straight.  
  
“Walaikum-salam.” They said in unison and beckoned me forward. The oldest, Miriam, spoke first. “The poor district is in need of aid, Ariyah. A rat has been feasting in the Souk Al-Silaah for too long. Tamir is his name, a Templar of course. His black market trading is supplying his kind with weapons that will be used to force us into submission. Do you accept this mission, Shakiha Ariyah?”  
  
“It will be done.” I inclined my head once more and Miriam nodded. Hawwa stepped forward and presented me with a small box. When I returned it to her, it would contain a snippet of Tamir’s hair dipped in his blood. Proof. I turned to leave but Jaida called me back.  
  
“Ariyah…You know better than most the level of care needed when dealing with Templars, but I must speak to clear my conscience. Perhaps it would be best if you used more…patient methods.”  
  
“Understood.”  
  
Patient meant using the trick that I quite literally kept up my sleeve. The cobra was nestled around my neck, tail coiled around the end of my necklace that so closely resembled him. I was almost relieved to have a target: it gave me an excuse to go outside. A’isha caught me on my way out and begged me to be back in time for the ceremony so I could see her formal inauguration. I promised to do my best and she wished me luck as I slipped out of the heavy stone door.  
  
It locked behind me and I was immediately bombarded by the atmosphere of the brothel. The overbearing incense used to cover up the smell of sex, the drums trying to cover up the moans from upstairs. I ignored it all, leaving through the side entrance and stepping into the alleyway.  
The people of Damascus filled the streets, busy going about their daily chores. I merged into the crowd, invisible amongst the throng of people. I learned long ago how to become a shadow; it was a skill that defined my element and one that so often made the difference between life and death. If they couldn’t see you coming, they wouldn’t see you leaving.  
  
Most of the time, at least.  
  
I had made a delicate balance in this city between making myself known to the people but remaining a mystery to the guards and leaders. The people themselves learned long ago that the red hoods would never touch them unless they gave us reason to.  
Rule number one: never harm an innocent.  
  
Keeping to the crowds as they moved through the poor district served me well up to a point. When I came close to the bazaar I turned down an alleyway and scaled the wall, pulling myself up onto the roof. The wind pushed back the brown material of my dress, weaving through the material of my cotton pants as I padded along the rooftop.  
  
The bazaar was bustling with people; a perfect stage for Tamir’s final show. Jumping onto the beams that ran above the numerous stalls, I perched in the shadows and waited. There were enough people that by the time Tamir realised he’d been bitten, I would be just another body in the crowd. The cobra began to stir, popping his head out of my robes and flicking his tongue at the air. I had no doubt that he was probably smelling a feast of mice, but he stayed with me nonetheless.  
  
For some reason this reptilian creature—and his kin—were no danger to me. They came to me, almost sought me out. Never once had I been bitten. Yasmine and Fatimah liked to joke that it was because I had the spirit of Amunet in me and that was why I was so good at what we did, but it was nothing more than gossip.  
  
Cobra venom was incredibly effective at not only killing a target, but giving you time to get away. I just needed to get close enough for the snake to find his ankle. During the commotion I could get his hair and claim his blood from the mouth of the cobra, all while his body slowly shut down. It paralyzed them first, until eventually their heart stopped beating. The perfect kill.  
  
A white hood caught my attention in the crowd: monks rarely travelled alone in the city, least of all in the poor district (the temple was in the middle district). I continued to study him until I realized that it wasn’t a monk at all: it was an assassin. One of the Levantine brotherhood, by the looks of the point on his hood. A red banner hand from his robes and the straps that looked like supports were actually holding weapons. He sat on a bench amongst a group of others and watched. If only he knew the hunter was being hunted himself. This was why I preferred to be up high: you were always the one looking down.  
  
The sound of raised voices drew my attention away from the white hood and to the other end of the bazaar where the people were parting like the red sea for Moses. It only took one glimpse of the seven-person guard to know my target had arrived. As I began to reposition myself I saw the white hood react as well. Was it possible that he was here for the same purpose?  
  
Whoever Tamir was talking to wasn’t making him very happy. He came very close to knocking over several of Mister Abbas’ finest pottery, but the merchant knew well enough to keep his mouth shut. It was a strange thing, power. It warped the mind better than any drug ever could. It was something the sisterhood was sure to prevent, always reminding us that just because we took lives did not mean we were above death itself. We were every bit as vulnerable, every bit as killable.  
  
I meant to move out of my hiding spot but the white hood pulled himself up onto the beams and backed up closer to me. From my angle I could see the scar that danced across his lip and knew at once who I was dealing with.  
  
“His death will not come by your blade, Altair Ibn-La’Ahad.” He spun immediately, eyes narrowing to see through the darkness I resided in. Stepping into the light my eyes fell from his to the blade attached to his wrist. He straightened up, trying to study me. “Leave now and rest assured that Tamir’s life will be taken this day.”  
  
“I don’t take orders from you.” He said stubbornly, hand itching to reach for the blade at his side. He resisted, though.  
  
“Then stay, if you’d like, just keep out of my way.” I stepped into the light and moved across the beams silently. He moved in front of me and I raised my eyebrows at him. Pulling the scimitar from my back, I held it loosely at my side and waited to see if he would challenge me. It filled me with a strange sort of satisfaction when he pulled out his own blade and took a step towards me.  
  
Tamir was edging closer and we both knew it. If this little showdown wasn’t over quickly we’d both be leaving empty handed. I made the first move and he blocked effectively, both of us taking a step back. He lunged out and we sparred for a few moments. This banter continued back and forth, all the while the target edging closer.  
  
“Who are you?” The white hood asked when our blades met once more. A small smirk crept onto my face as the cobra around my neck fanned out and bared its fangs. The sight of it made the assassin step back quickly.  
  
“The Snake Eater.” I shoved him hard until he lost his balance and fell right into the majority of Tamir’s guards. Upon seeing the weapons Tamir cursed and turned on his heel, preparing to run. I didn’t let him get far though; running along the beams until I was right above him and then jumping down. I took the dagger from my side and plunged it into his skull, using the fact that the guards were preoccupied with the white hood to my advantage. Sawing off a piece of Tamir’s hair, I covered it in his blood and whispered the necessary prayer: “ _Natari di zeem_.”  
  
When the proof of death was secure in the box, I darted down an alleyway and put my other weapons away. Running up the wall, I started moving across the roofs while the townspeople screamed and scattered below. I worked my way back to the brothel and found the tapestry that covered the door to the sisterhood. It was a long-standing tradition that the many bases hid behind the guise of a whore house for the simple fact that it was the last place you would expect to find a group of assassins. We protected the girls upstairs and they always passed on any useful information to us.  
  
Taking the necklace off, I fed it into a recess in the wall and watched as it was pulled through an elaborate design. When it finally stopped, the spikes inside of it were pushed out to lock it into place. Only after this did a handle move out of the stone. I turned it and took my necklace from the other side, listening as the door slid shut behind me. From the quietness of the place I could tell the ceremony was already being prepared.  
  
The Hakeema were in the ceremony hall along with the rest of the base. I bowed and approached them, handing the box to Miriam. Her frail hands took it and wedged it open; her head nodding before the box disappeared into the folds of her robes.  
  
“Everything was as it should be?” Jaida asked.  
  
“No.” I admitted immediately. I could see Yasmine and the others from my group listening closely. “I ran into a Levantine in the bazaar. Altair Ibn-La’Ahad. He was there to claim Tamir’s life as well. The target’s blood covered my blade, in the end.”  
  
“And the Levantine?” Hawwa pushed, eyes flickering to the front where the ceremony was almost ready to begin. “What was his fate?”  
  
“I pushed him into the guards as a distraction and did not turn back.”  
  
They seemed satisfied with this and dismissed me. I went over and stood between Yasmine and Jamila, keeping my eyes to the front as the ceremony began.  
  
“They say Altair moves like an Angel of Death, carrying fury on his wings.” Jamila teased as I rolled my eyes.  
  
“His furious wings did a damn good job of pulling him to the ground when I beat him.”  
  
After that we kept quiet and watched as the three girls who had completed their tehjareb swore their oaths to the sisterhood and were presented with their own honourary daggers. On one side, the motto of the sisterhood _natari di zeem_. On the other would be their elemental sign planted within the symbol of the Aeterna: the eternal snake of Ouroboros. Soon they would get their tattoo and be assigned their first kill, and when they got old they would replace the mualeshi and the Hakeema and the Mualimina. A perpetual cycle.  
  
The Aeterna were forever. We would always endure.


	2. A Familiar Face

When the sun was still buried and the people of Damascus still slept, the city was at its most peaceful. The morning air was cool and fresh, the Barada River was quiet and undisturbed, and I could move through the city freely. A few of the merchants in the poor district were getting ready to set up shop for the day, but they all avoided my eye as I pulled up my red hood and silently padded through the streets.  
  
My favourite retreat in the poor district was not secret at all, but only open to a select few individuals. As I worked my way to the stone pathway that lead to the doors of the Sinan Pasha mosque, the Imam was standing outside. He had a smile on his face and I returned the gesture.  
  
“Has the muezzin called for the prayer yet?” I asked, pulling my robes around me.  
  
“He will go up soon. Fajr has not yet come; the sun still sleeps.”  
  
“Would you have me wait or may I go up?” He nodded his head and motioned to the tall minaret: a gesture of approval. I nodded to him and went around the back of the tower before beginning my ascent. It was always easier to climb before the sun got too high in the sky to warm things up. I’d be burned more than once by grabbing hold of a metal fixture that had been out in the sun too long. The climb woke my muscles up and by the time I reached the gallery of the minaret I was wide awake.  
  
As I heaved myself over the edge, the door to the stairwell opened and the muezzin walked to the railing. He didn’t notice me so I stayed out of sight while he cleared his throat. After a few moments he took in a deep breath and began to belt out the athan that would call the Muslims for the morning prayer. I kept myself hidden until he had finished and retreated back down into the mosque. I respected these people just as they respected me: it was a simple trade off. My sisters and I had saved a number of the people who went to this mosque, and in return we were granted permission to use the minarets as lookouts when we wished. We made sure to be considerate, though. Such as not climbing to the top of the minaret and sitting on the bird’s perch, as I was now, when the athan was being called.  
  
I liked being up here. It was one of the highest points in the entire city, and thus gave a good vantage point. I could see little dots start to show up in the distance as people began to file out of their homes to commence the day. The sky was cloudless but the air wasn’t hot, even as the sun began to rise. The cobra stirred at some point and I watched as it slithered out of my sleeve and down to the gallery of the minaret. When its serpentine shape disappeared from my sight I looked back out at the city. In moments like these I could forget about who I was or what I did; I could pretend that I had a husband or children or parents to visit. I could pretend that the world didn’t need people like me to keep it in order, and all that mattered was the bargain I could get on a loaf of bread.  
  
A bird circled past me and snapped me from my trance. I followed its flight through the sky as it got further and further, eventually going past the other minaret of the mosque. That was when I noticed the figure atop it, stance mirroring mine. The white hood, the would-be monk, the Levantine Assassin. He was looking straight at me, the edges of his robes swaying in the wind. When he was certain that I’d seen him he dropped from the perch and disappeared behind the minaret. I watched the base of the tower for a long time, waiting to see him show up elsewhere, but wherever he’d fled was out of my line of sight. It worried me slightly that he was still in Damascus: Tamir had been killed three days ago. The Hakeema warned me to keep an eye out in case the Levantine came looking for revenge, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if he did.  
  
The sun started to wake, filling the horizon with bright light as it stirred from its slumber. Soon I would have to attend to my duties and check in at the base to see if any missions had come up. Lowering myself down to the gallery, I heaved out a heavy breath before tuning into my senses. There was a pinprick feeling on the back of my neck and I drew my scimitar, spinning around. After a few moments of standing frozen the Levantine stepped into view with a smirk on his face. I took a step back out of instinct and braced myself for a fight.  
  
“If I meant to kill you, you’d be dead already.” He said simply, eyeing me carefully before showing his empty palms as a gesture of good faith.  
  
“Do you take me for a fool?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “You are never truly unarmed. Not with that thing on your wrist and your hands still attached. We are assassins. Blades are not the only things that kill.”  
  
“Like I said, if I wanted you dead—”  
  
“You’d be dead yourself and wondering what made you think it was a good idea to try.” I put the scimitar back in its sheath and took a step back. He meant to move towards me but the cobra moved between his feet and he immediately moved away. I bent down and let the creature wrap around my arm, the lump in its middle letting me know a meal had been found.  
  
“The people have no neutral opinions when it comes to you.” He stated, crossing his arms and leaning back against the railing. “The Snake Eater is either loved or hated.”  
  
“It should be a familiar notion, especially coming from you Altair Ibn-La’Ahad.”  
  
“It is strange the rich and the guards should so greatly hate one whose name they do not know. In fact, no one in the whole city seems to know your name. All they know is the colour of your hood and the bite marks you leave on your victims—or rather, the marks you command your pet to leave.”  
  
“The cobra never has and never will be mine to command.” The serpent found its way between my breasts and settled into the warmth. At that I turned to leave but the white hood called out for me to wait. I turned to him and made eye contact, trying to figure out what he was meaning to get from me. “I have things to do. Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”  
  
I opened the door to the tower and closed it behind me, jogging down the spiraling stairs until I reached the door on the main level. Pulling my hood down further, I slipped out of the mosque and moved into the labyrinth of back alleyways that would lead me back to the middle district of Damascus. I made a point to check over my shoulder more than usual to be sure that the white hood wasn’t following me, and only when I was certain did I slip into the brothel.  
  


~..--==’’==--..--==’’==--..--==’’==--..~

  
  
Sometimes I wondered what it was like for normal people, tried to imagine the fear they felt upon seeing the cobra or its kin. Children, if they were young enough, usually hadn’t developed the fear and apprehension yet. They didn’t know any better. The majority of people hadn’t even touched a snake in their lives. It was hard to fathom that something that had grown to be such a comfort for me could double as a source of crippling terror for others. But then again, I knew better than most the consequences of setting one of them off. I had seen it firsthand more times than I could count.  
  
“Because snakes do not speak our language, allow me to translate for you. Do you see the way its tongue flicks out like that? That’s its way of smelling you and determining where to strike if the moment is right. Now I’ll ask again: what are the names of the people I seek?”  
  
The man was absolutely terrified and I didn’t blame him in the slightest. My blade was pressed against his throat and the cobra was lazily hanging from my neck; two promises of death just waiting to become a reality. I was crouched over him in one of the guards’ resting quarters on the top of a roof in the rich district. He was holding his hands up in a show of surrender but all his lips were doing was begging for mercy.  
  
Word had reached the Aeterna in a breach of secrecy amongst one of the brothel girls. Apparently one of them had gotten too intoxicated and let slip where our location was and who we were. She was being dealt with by some of the other sisters, but it had fallen on Yasmine and I to locate the men who had learned of our order and dispose of them.  
  
I meant to push again for the names, but the sound of approaching footsteps made me go rigid. At first I thought it was a guard, but the footfalls were far too fast to be a guard. Someone was running, likely a thief. Possibly one of my sisters, another _shakiha_. I managed to get out one more demand before the thin fabric curtain came flying at me and a body crashed beside me on the cushion.  
  
“ _Hamara!_ ” I hissed at the white hood. He looked up at me, chest heaving, and seemed just as shocked as I was. His eyes quickly went from me to the man beneath me. I held my blade out at him as a warning but saw the approaching guards and heard them screaming.  
  
“I’ll have your head for that!” One of them cried. I looked down at the hostage and saw the hope light up in his eyes. Slapping a hand over his mouth, the cobra moved onto the man’s chest and bared its fangs. Its neck fanned out and it leaned close to the man’s eye as a threat.  
  
“Not. A. Sound.” I said gravely, looking back at the Levantine before watching the legs of the guards as they approached the hideout. I held my breath as the figures came closer, cursing the assassin for how heavily he was breathing. If I ended up shedding blood because of him I would not be happy. The guards hovered for a few moments while they tried to determine where the white hood had gone, before eventually giving up and going back to the streets. The three of us remained silent and still even after they’d left just to be sure, until I let out my breath. “Leave.”  
  
“Please, take me with you!” The man squealed at the assassin. I turned back to him and brought my fist down onto his face. His hand absently went to the blood at his nostrils and I looked the white hood in the eyes.  
  
“Leave.” He hovered a few moments before hopping out of the enclosement. “You have fifteen seconds to tell me what I want to hear or I will kill you.”  
  
“They’ll hurt me if I tell you!” He pleaded. “They’ll hurt my family!”  
  
“They won’t live to harm anyone if you just tell me who they are!” I yelled, growing impatient. As the anger bubbled in me the cobra became more antsy. I sighed, calming myself before counting down from ten. By the time I got to 5 he caved and listed four men’s names as well as where to find them. Thanking him, I apologized before delving my blade deep into his skull. As much as I wished we didn’t have to kill those we interrogated—especially those who complied and told us what we needed to know—if the Aeterna spared everyone on their promise of keeping quiet, we wouldn’t be around long enough to correct our mistake. “Natari di zeem.”  
  
Wiping my blade clean, I fastened it at my side and climbed out of the resting quarters. When I had surveyed the area to be sure no guards would see me, I pulled out the body and began to drag it to the edge of the rooftop. In the alley below there was a bale of hay that I aimed for when I kicked him off the roof. Scaling down the wall, I went over and made sure the body was hidden well enough before cleaning my hands in a nearby fountain and drying them on my robes.  
  
Pulling my hood up I merged into the streets, walking slowly in line with the people as they went about their day. The street merged into a courtyard full of people which only made it easier to blend in. There were a few times that a group of guards made me switch directions but eventually I made it to the border of the middle district. A group of monks came up beside me so I instinctively moved out of their way, but one of them stayed beside me.  
  
“I’m guessing from the way you’re walking that you found what you’re looking for.” The Levantine had a smirk on his face yet again, and the sight of him popping up everywhere in my city was really starting to make me want to exact some revenge of my own.  
  
“Shouldn’t you return to Masyaf? I’m sure your Al-Mualim will want news of Tamir.” I said curtly, walking faster to try and lose him. He kept up with me, though, much to my dismay. “Or do you rue the fact that you must tell him it wasn’t you who did the killing?”  
  
“He will know soon enough. But I doubt he will tell me any more about the Aeterna than these townspeople will.” He looked pleased at the way his words caught me off guard. I had assumed from earlier that he didn’t know a thing about the sisterhood—but apparently I assumed wrong. I quickly turned away from him and down an alleyway, but he jogged to keep up with me.  
  
“I do not doubt that he thinks he knows more than he actually does, but he will tell you little all the same. I also do not doubt that his words will be slanderous and false: a series of myths that came about because men like him—men like _you_ —fear a woman who is anything but submissive.”  
  
“If you wish to defend your order then why don’t you tell me about it yourself?” He challenged. I spun to face him with fury in my eyes, a fire that he saw immediately and braced himself for.  
  
“Even if it wasn’t against our creed I wouldn’t grace you with the secrets of the Aeterna.” I said quietly. “Now I will ask you kindly to please leave me be. I do not wish to be bothered by you again.”  
  
With that I opened the door to my left and went inside the small home. Closing the door behind me I made sure to lock it and went into the kitchen where a woman greeted me with a warm smile. Her busy hands took a break from the cooking and she kissed me on both cheeks before motioning to the staircase. I nodded a thanks to her and went to the upper level, wandering to the room at the end of the hall. Hovering in the doorway, I watched as the man who had been my friend for as long as I could remember rocked a sleeping child in his arms. When he noticed me he put the baby in its crib and tucked it in before crossing over to me and wrapping me in a hug.  
  
“Careful, I’ve got blood on me.” I said quietly as he pulled away. His eyes darkened for a moment but he pushed past it and smiled at me, leading the way to the small balcony that overlooked the streets. Rami came from a line of men who had been granted a special access to the sisterhood for over a century. His father and grandfather had been deemed _rasuls_ , or messengers. They were around in case there was ever a message that needed delivering and one of the sisters was unable to do it. Their loyalty had been tested time and time again, but I knew that his heart was true.  
  
“Did you get the names?” He asked solemnly. I nodded and almost immediately brought up the subject of his little sister’s health: if the baby slept sound frequently. We had become good friends when I was still in training, and he had been my surrogate for many things. He was the only male contact I had that didn’t end in me killing him. He was my first many things, and there was a time when I thought that I loved him—but it was too easy to see that despite the fierce loyalty he had to me and the sisterhood, he would never completely be okay with what I did. He could never fully see past the blood.  
  
But despite this he still welcomed me into his home, his arms, and sometimes his bed. He provided a safe house that wasn’t crawling with eager men and tired girls. Here I could find my drive to keep going on the days when I doubted myself the most. Rami and his two younger brothers and his little baby sister and his parents, they were proof that there was still something worth fighting for in this world, and that it would fall to my sisters and me and all of the Aeterna to go to battle.  
  
“Are you hungry?” His green eyes were like two carved emeralds in his head and they had a power in all their own. They were his mother’s eyes. The eyes that his sister had as well. They could make you say yes to anything, and as the refusal worked its way up my throat his look pushed it right back down.  
  
With a sigh I nodded and followed him down the stairs.


	3. An Uncertain Present

“She’s getting away!”  
  
The skin on my palms scraped away as I gripped the edge of a wall. Far below me the ground waited in anticipation for me to fall so it could bruise my skin and fracture my bones. With a deep breath I heaved myself onto the top of the building, ignoring the way the open cuts stung as blood rushed to the surface. The faster of the guards reached me and I drove my sword into his belly, kicking him into the man who followed him before turning away.  
  
It was supposed to be a quick job, a standard kill. I was to escort A’isha—who had been sorted into my element—through her first formal assassination. The target was a man guilty of beating his wife so violently that she lost the child she carried inside of her. What the Aeterna hadn’t prepared us for was the throng of guards the man had spontaneously hired. He must have somehow gotten word that the red hoods wanted his head and prepared himself.  
  
“Get back here!”  
  
I made the call to abort the mission. Some of the sisters believed that a spontaneous change of events like that would have been a fantastic learning opportunity, but I saw no point in almost guaranteeing the young _shakiha’s_ death. I meant to get her out of there, get her back to the base and return with some of the more experienced girls, but during our escape A’isha walked into a party of guards making their rounds. I didn’t know what was covering my robes more: the guards’ blood from when I slaughtered half of them, or A’isha’s blood from where I held her lifeless body.  
  
Although I wanted to turn back and fight them all to the death, although I wanted to kill every last guard in the city just so I could give the girl a proper burial, my feet kept hitting the ground. I kept running. I didn’t know how I would tell the others, the Hakeema. This sort of thing was known to happen, but the tears were burning my eyes so harshly because I felt at fault. I knew, deep inside, that this would haunt me for years to come. Even as I ran the guards’ yelling was drowned out by the sound of her screams.  
  
I tuned back into reality when I realized that more guards were coming from the other side of the roofs—or at least, that’s why I thought there were twice as many guards. But a flash of white lined up fifteen feet away from me and all the anger I had for the guards was transferred to this incessant shadow. I wanted to kill him just so he would stop showing up everywhere I happened to be. Especially now, bringing an extra party of guards onto my tail as if I didn’t have enough to worry about already.  
  
The city had been Altair-free for almost a month, but I should have known it couldn’t last forever. I barely saw any other Levantines around, and if I did it was usually in a brothel or one of picking up flags that had been taken from them. Why they carried around flags was beyond me but they kept to themselves and never bothered any of the sisters so I tolerated them. But Altair, this Master Assassin descended from an equally notable father, he was proving to be nothing more than a burden to me.  
  
I cut free a row of wine casks, watching as they rolled back towards my pursuers—who had merged with the Levantine’s—and created a pile up amongst them as the stumbled over each other and tried not to slip on the spilling liquid. As the roof got narrower the white hood and I were forced closer together until we were nearly side by side. The guards had fallen behind, but I’d been so preoccupied with keeping my distance and avoiding the assassin that I failed to notice we were both heading to a building with no connection.  
  
At the edge of building I looked down at the ground so far below. If I jumped from so high up, something would break. My chest heaved as I looked around for a way to double back while still avoiding the throng of guards; some way that I could make it to the poor district where there were so many more places to hide.  
  
“Do you trust me?” The Levantine asked suddenly, looking me in the eye as my heart pounded.  
  
“Of course not!” I roared, wanting to hit him for asking such a stupid question. My heels braced the edge of the roof and he looked over at the ground before backing up a few paces. I was half way through planning my escape when he rotated his shoulders and heaved out a huge breath.  
“Well you’re going to have to take a leap of faith.”  
  
“A leap of wha—”  
He knocked the last syllable out of me in one swift move. He barrelled towards me, wrapping his arms around my middle and knocking me off the roof completely. The scream stuck in my throat even as he maneuvered us through the air, facing his back to the ground. A sky of blue gave way to holes of light and strands of hay.  
  
The only move I made was to rip his hand away from my mouth. I wanted to push away and find somewhere else to hide but the way his arms held me against him showed me he knew just as well as I did that this was my safest bet. I was holding myself up as much as possible and turned my face away from him but it didn’t help much. Both of our chests were heaving but I tried to calm my breaths, even as the guards’ voices began to boom over us. In determining which way the two of us were likely to have gone, they began to split up and go in three directions.  
  
I looked at the assassin and silently asked if we were safe to move, but his hands tightened slightly and despite not trusting _him_ , I trusted his judgement. Sure enough, a few moments later a guard huffed and landed in the hay almost on top of me. The Levantine shifted his body so he was on top of me, and if I didn’t know any better I would have thought he was shielding me. The guard groaned and rolled out of the hay, lingering a few moments before marching away. After a few more seconds the white hood got up, finally allowing me to do the same.  
  
Dusting myself off, I pulled my hood down to get all the hay out of it and marched away. I turned into the first alleyway I came upon and leaned against the wall, taking a few deep breaths before looking at my bloodstained clothing. It was all I had left of the girl who wanted nothing more than to make the world a better place to live in. The safety of dispersed guards and a momentary hiding spot let the sadness catch up with me and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes.  
  
“You’re welcome.” The assassin said from behind me. I spun quickly to face him and watched as the arrogance slipped from his face at the sight of my tears and the bloodied fabric I held.  
  
“I didn’t _ask_ for your help, Altair Ibn-La’Ahad. I give credit where it is due. You deserve my thanks for the part you play in ridding the world of Templars. Thank you. But I am not a lost girl that needs your saving or your protection. If it was my time to die then I would die gladly and with honour. I am not your responsibility, and frankly it’s a miracle you didn’t break any of my bones. I won’t ask you again to stay away from me. The Aeterna does not need the help of the Levantine.”  
  
Pulling my hood up I briskly turned away from him and started working my way back to the base. My heart was heavy and so were my limbs, each step a burden as I entered the brothel and went through the motions of opening the door to the Aeterna. I passed a few of the girls on my way inside but I ignored them completely in search of the Hakeema. I found all of them in their chamber and closed the door behind me before falling to my knees. The looks on their faces meant I would not have to say what brought me.  
  
“How?” Jaida asked in a strained voice. After a moment I gathered up the courage and relayed the story step by step—but I made the decision to leave out the part about the Levantine. When I was finished they silently judged my tale before nodding. They knew me well enough by now to trust my word and found no cause for discipline, so I was dismissed.  
  
“Ariyah,” Miriam called out at the last moment. “Gather the sisters in the ceremony hall. They will be talking of your return and A’isha’s absence and it would be better if they heard it from you. Can you manage?”  
  
I bowed my head and turned away, going up to the first group of sisters I found and instructing them to spread the message to gather in the ceremony hall. I relayed the message to any that I encountered all along my way to the hall. By the time I got there half the base had gathered so I wandered to the front and waited for the rest. By the time the Hakeema showed up we were pretty much at full capacity so I took a deep breath, got onto the elevated stage, and waited for them to fall silent.  
  
“A’isha is dead.”  
  
I stared out at this group of girls, this collection of brave souls who had been dealt such horror stories by the world that they deserved to fight back. But I wondered if they understood that fighting back was not the most important thing in life. A couple of them gasped and everywhere friends began to embrace one another. Solemn glances fell on the floor and a few quiet prayers could be heard. I went on to give a brief synopsis of what went wrong, finding no shame in my tears or anyone else’s. It was considered weakness if you couldn’t bear being attached to your sisters. Caring about the Aeterna, the assassins, the only family any of us had left: that was what defined us. What kept us human.  
  
“There will be no funeral for her. But here, in the home of the Aeterna, we will mourn her and use our sister’s death as a reminder. A reminder that being a part of this sisterhood does not make you immortal nor does it make you invincible. You bleed just like the targets you are sent to kill. You can die just as easily, if not easier than them. Death is a chance you risk every time you leave this place and put on that hood. But furthermore, understand this: the dagger you bear and the work you will do _does not_ make you better than anyone else. The hood does not make you superior.”  
  
As out of place as it was, the image of the Levantine came into my mind. I was hostile towards him, but why? Mostly as a defense mechanism: I didn’t want to risk him getting down my defenses and then killing me, or trying to get information on the Aeterna out of me. But it went deeper than that. I almost loathed the Levantine brotherhood. They had never done anything to me in particular, but it was the Levantines who required the Aeterna to be made in the first place. But those actions were done by few, not all of the white hoods. And as much as I didn’t enjoy admitting it, I did think I was better than them. If the assassin, Altair, truly had ulterior motives they were yet to be revealed. There were plenty of other sisters in Damascus and all across the kingdom he could bother if information was what he wanted, and the stunt on the roof had in fact been my salvation. But if he paid any heed to my final request, I would never see him again to apologize. Looking back at the girls I tried to find words to console them.  
  
“I don’t say this in hopes of terrifying you: I am telling you this because it is the truth. The ultimate truth that none can forget. The second you forget any of this and think yourself better or deathless, you will slip up. Being an assassin is a delicate balance between awareness and ability. For the sake of yourselves and the sister who lay dead on the outer fields of Damascus; remember.”  
  
With that I wandered through the crowd of my sisters to the back and the Hakeema took the front stage. They called out seven names and explained the chosen girls would go to the man and fix the balance: but to remember the creed of the Aeterna and to go out for justice, not for vengeance. When we were all dismissed Yasmine, one of the chosen, squeezed my hand gently before going off to join the others. A few of the sisters offered words of condolence before I left the base and returned to the city.  
  
My home was a tiny place on the outskirts of the poor district, equal in distance between the front gates of the city, the base, and Yasmine’s house. Of course all of those in the Aeterna were technically my sisters, but Yasmine was always the one I had been closest to. She was my shadow, and I was hers. We were the same age when started training (she found her way into the brothel at 9 years after fleeing an arranged marriage in Acre) and the same age when we earned our titles as assassins. But it went deeper than that.  
  
The final task before truly becoming an assassin was the _tehjareb_. It varied from base to base depending on the location, but I imagined no matter how pleasant an environment the country was it was never an easy task. After training endlessly and studying and learning and growing until the Hakeema and the Mualimina deemed a _kasr_ fit, groups of the girls were sent out on a final test to prepare them for the harsh realities of the real world. The Mualimina would have a general feel for which element a girl’s skills were reflective of by the time she was ready for the _tehjareb_ , and so she usually did her best to even out the groups that departed.  
  
Yasmine was the only other almost-air in my group and the lot of us were brought out into the middle of the desert with very little food or water. Each girl was given a pack and a different item that, when used together, would lead to the success of all. But if one girl strayed or valued her own needs above the group as a whole, all would suffer. The nights were cold and the days were scalding and the dunes shifted all the time leaving us with a very poor sense of direction. One of the girls died after being stung by a scorpion on the second day. But as cruel as the desert was, the sea of sand gave me the cobra. It found me on the third day, wrapping around my arm like snakes had so often done before. It fanned out at the other girls and then inexplicably calmed, almost as if reflecting my own emotions towards them. It was small then—much smaller than it was now—and I wondered if maybe it was orphaned too.  
  
It had been with me ever since, and when Yasmine and I finally led our group to the point on the map indicated by the Mualimina I decided I would never cage it nor name it nor assume it was my own. It deserved the freedom that I had.  
  
When I got inside I peeled off my clothes and washed myself to get rid of the sweat and blood before throwing my clothes in to let them soak. Once I was changed I grabbed some pita bread to quell the hunger in my stomach. There was a single knock on the door followed by four quick ones—a means of communicating safety. I opened it to see Rami with a sad look on his face; one of the sisters must have told him. With a sigh I let him in and led the way to the roof where we sat on the edge, feet dangling over. For a while we were silent and I couldn’t help but wondering if maybe I’d been born a man as strong as Rami I might’ve been able to save A’isha.  
  
“I saw the white hood again today.” I said quietly, picking at the dried blood beneath my nails as he looked over at me.  
  
“Altair?” He asked, apprehension filling his voice. I nodded once and explained what happened before rubbing my temples. I could feel a headache coming on and all I wanted to do was sleep and forget. “Do you fear he may be trouble for you?”  
  
“No.” I said honestly. “He has had his chance to harm me and passed it over three times.”  
  
We both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw Yasmine standing there with a single streak of blood on her beige dress. I went over to her, resting my forehead against hers before wrapping her in my arms. She apologized for what I had to see and wished she had been there with me. All I could do was hold her tighter.  
  
“I should go. Father is probably back from the shop.” Rami said behind us. Yasmine kissed me on either cheek and wiped both of our tears away.  
  
“The Hakeema await me. I will come back after.” She said quietly I nodded and watched the both of them disappear. For a while I stayed on the roof, watching their figures grow smaller and smaller in the distance. When my eyes grew too heavy from all the crying I turned away and went to the stairs.  
  
Just before I left, I could have sworn I saw a flash of white on one of the neighbouring roofs.


	4. The Wounded Eagle

Perhaps it was my own fault. Maybe I was getting arrogant, or at the very least getting comfortable. We were always to remain vigilant, watchful, cautious, alert. Having been at this for over ten years the guards seemed like less of a hazard. It should have been at the forefront of my mind that, just as I continued to train and hone my skills, so would my living obstacles. They were starting to get faster, younger men were being recruited, and still I brushed them off.  
  
Maybe this was what I deserved.  
  
They were chasing me through the streets, following much closer behind than I remembered. If I had a chance to look back I would’ve checked for new faces: perhaps the king had brought in new men from Acre or Jerusalem where they were more disciplined. Regardless of where they were from or who they were, they were gaining on me. I nearly crashed into another group of guards as I turned the corner, doubling back and scaling a wall as the groups merged together in pursuit.  
  
Technically what I was doing didn’t count as official Aeterna business, and if I ever made it back to the Hakeema I would likely get a lecture from them all. But if they were out on the streets and saw the starving children and the mountains of food in the halls of the rich, maybe they’d have acted the same. Of course the guards were kind enough to wait until I had stolen the food and handed it to the children before coming after me. The mother, crippled and widowed, had thanked me over and over again until the yelling started. I made sure they had a safe place to go to before fleeing myself.  
  
On the rooftops of the poor district there were next to no guards but the flat surfaces and lack of people made for much clearer sight lines. My only hope was to make it to the bazaar or at least the central courtyard in an attempt to lose them. It was midday and either place would be packed with people. If it wasn’t such a large number of them I would have tried to flee for the base. Part of me knew that I could likely make it to Rami’s with enough luck, but I didn’t want to risk it. Couldn’t risk his family’s life on account of my own errors.  
  
Nearly tripping on one of the roofs, I refocused my attention on the task at hand and started to work my way towards the courtyard. Dipping down to the lower roofs I broke their line of sight and silently merged into the crowd. Huddling close to a group of women I stayed with them as they wandered around the fountain. I could hear the group of guards shouting for people to move out of the way as they looked for me, and for a while I thought I was safe. But at the last moment, just as they were almost out of the courtyard entirely, one of them recognized me and pointed me out.  
  
Cursing him under my breath I took off again, darting down a side street. I looked back to see that despite my head start they were close on my heels. Turning around I stopped suddenly, nearly crashing into a group of monks. From among them I could see the Levantine, and watched as he took in the sight of me and my followers. For the briefest of moments I thought he was going to do something, but he moved to the side with the rest of the monks and I pushed past him. At least he was respecting my wishes—although judging by how things were going they may have been my last wishes.  
  
I turned to go down a familiar route but stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of a group of men building a wall right where I meant to run. It jolted me out of my automatic run and I watched as guards came at me from every available exit. My feet and lungs and legs were aching: I doubted I’d be able to run for much longer. If I was closer to the gates of the city I would have made a run to flee Damascus entirely, but it was too great a distance. Strengthening my stance and taking a few much needed breaths, I drew my scimitar and prepared myself for what would likely be my end.  
  
The guards drew close and I counted at least twelve. When they stopped a few feet in front of me the lot of us entered into a silent game of patience, all waiting for the other to make the first move into what would surely end in a bloodbath. After a few moments one of the guards grew weary of the waiting and pulled back his arm to strike out at me. A shadow blocked out the sun for a moment and there was a flash of white.  
  
There was a loud thud as the white blur crashed onto the ground beside me, but the figure rose tall into the form of the assassin. He did not look at me, but drew his sword and prepared himself for a fight. I did not question him, and even if I’d wanted to there wouldn’t have been time for they guards leapt forward in a frenzy and began to attack.  
  
All of my instincts began to kick in, years of training taking over as some automatic part of my mind calculated where to move and who to strike and where to counter and kick and stab and kill. It was a blur of blood and a bomb of blades and a storm of steel that engulfed us all. All I knew was that at some point the assassin and I were back to back, each fending off attacks against the other. Bodies began to pile around us and I realized that we actually had the upper hand.  
  
One of the guards came at me with a spear and after deflecting his attacks I kicked him into the wheelbarrow half full of bricks near the construction site. The impact of hitting it broke the spear in half and impaled him on one end, his body slumping to the ground. After killing two more I realized there were none left to dispatch. It was a pleasant surprise, but looking around at the sea of bodies scattered across the alley reminded me how close I’d come.  
  
As I came down from the rush of the fight I became aware of the injuries I’d sustained but decided they were small and easy to patch up. At last I turned to the Levantine, trying to determine what on earth I was supposed to say or do. He was busy prying his sword free of a man’s skull as I watched him. In the back of my throat the words thank you clung desperately inside, not wanting to come out. It was difficult for me to admit that he had in fact done something undeniably useful for me.  
  
When he finally looked up at me I took a step towards him, but the step quickly turned into a run and a scream at the sight of what lurked behind him. Neither of us were fast enough to stop the half-alive guard before he used his last bits of energy to shove the broken spear shaft into Altair’s torso. He cried out at the impact and I quickly put the man down before turning to face him. In the distance people were screaming and calling out for help or mercy or god; soon more guards would come and find the bodies and search for the one responsible.  
  
I looked down at the white hood as he fell to his knees, hands hovering over the blooming red on his robes where the handle protruded, and I knew that I needed to leave him behind. For my own safety and the safety of the Aeterna I had to sacrifice the stranger and take cover at the base until all of this blew over. But even with these thoughts running through my mind, my body was betraying me. As my mind mapped out a route back to the base my feet walked towards him, my hands lifting him to his feet. As I determined how long I would need to stay hidden, my arms were heaving the handle out of his body and wadding a scarf against his wound before pulling his belt over to keep it in place.  
  
Before I had a chance to list the thousand reasons I should have left him there to die I was looping his arm around my shoulders and heaving him into the nearest alleyway. He hobbled on beside me, clenching his teeth and taking shallow breaths as I led the way. I all but dragged him to the brothel, narrowly avoiding another group of guards on the way there before slipping into the side entrance and finding the tapestry.  
  
Propping him up against the wall, I pulled my necklace off and fed it through the doorway. His eyes were curious but his wound demanded the majority of his attention. I tried to beat back the growing fear that this was all just some ploy to gain access to the sisterhood, because the second I entertained such a notion would be the second I tried to kill him. When the door opened I supported him again and walked inside. All eyes in the hall turned to him and everyone fell silent.  
  
“Y-You can’t bring outsiders in here!” One of the girls squeaked in horror.  
  
“Enough. Get me a Mualesh.” I led the wounded man towards one of the corridors, much to the dismay of the girls.  
  
“It’s a violation of the creed!”  
  
“He’s my _halif_!” I roared, silencing them. Once more I demanded for a healer and a few of the girls ran off to find one. I led Altair to the healing quarters and found an empty room, easing him onto the bed and immediately rolling the cart of supplies to his bedside. I began to unbuckle the sheaths and belts he wore but his hand instinctively rose to stop me. In a fury I slapped his hand away and put my blade under his neck.  
  
“I’m trying to _help_ you!” I yelled, some part of me understanding too well how wrong all of this was and the inevitable end.  
  
“Says the one with the knife at my throat.” He said through gritted teeth. I hissed and drove the blade into the wooden table beside him before stripping him of his weapons and belts. There was a commotion at the doorway and I saw the mualesh Nezha hover at the doorway. She dismissed the girls who had brought her, eyes never leaving the Levantine.  
  
“Do not lie to me the way you have lied to your sisters.” Her voice was calm but the poison was nearly palpable. She was held up by one crutch to make up for the void from her right knee down. “He is no halif.”  
  
“Please, mualesh. Heal him.”  
  
“You ask for me to aid a Levantine?” She finally looked over to me, wholly ignoring the muffled groans escaping the white hood. “A brother of the man responsible for all of Amunet’s pain and suffering? You may wish to dishonour the sisterhood but I will not. He will not be helped by me.”  
  
“Nezha, he saved my life!” I yelled desperately, secretly furious that the girls would bring me the one healer who had ever been wronged by a Levantine. They had known a white hood was responsible for her losing her leg, and still they sent for her out of all the others. “Without his intervening I would be food for the crows. _Please_. I owe him this debt.”  
  
She was quiet for an eternity, all the while my insides jumbling in anxiety. Part of me wondered if she was quiet for so long in hopes that he would simply die and she would have no more decision to make. But eventually she drew in a long breath and closed her eyes.  
  
“I will not heal him. But I will instruct you how to.” I nodded, knowing that it was the most I could ever hope to receive. I brought her a stool to sit on so her body aches would be minimal. She hovered at the doorway but when she started her instructions all evidence of hatred dissipated.  
Firstly I made a concoction that put the white hood to sleep so as to ease his pain—and make it easier to work. When his eyelids were closed and his breathing slowed I worked quickly to cut away the white robe. My heart was hammering inside my chest, a thousand doubts clawing their way out of me as I came to terms with the fact his life was now in my hands. I had stitched my own cuts a few times but I had never done something so extreme. It came as a surprise to see that beneath the tunic his entire torso was covered in an intricate tattoo design; it wound from his neck down to his waist and from shoulders to wrists. Whether or not it had any significance was beyond me, but I ignored it and resumed following the mualesh’s instructions.  
  
It was a nasty wound to tend to. Had it been a straight blade the wound would have been clean, but the spear handle left a jagged and large hole. Little bits of the wooden handle had splintered inside him and I had to pluck them out as carefully as possible; even with a cloth my hands were stained red by the end of it. Next I made a solution to dab inside the wound that Nezha said would keep it from eating away at the rest of him. The Levantine was strong, though: when I worked to thread the wound closed (a difficult task due to the asymmetry of the injury) he stirred twice. After the second time I doubled the amount of sleeping draught (Nezha made an off-hand remark about too much killing him but she didn’t seem to be worried in the slightest) and worked slowly to close the wound. After stitching him up she instructed me to make a paste of honey, garlic, and some herbs to apply over the stitches to draw out any sickness in the hours to come. She hobbled away after that, leaving me alone to wrap his abdomen in bandages. For a while I stared at the tattoo, studying the design and trying to discern a meaning to it but eventually gave up and scrubbed at my hands in a basin of clean water.  
  
As I finally moved to dry my hands I heard two small knocks on the door. Turning quickly for fear it was Nezha saying she forgot something, I saw Miriam at the threshold casually looking at the white hood. After a moment she looked up to me and beckoned me into the hallway. My heart was racing once more as I followed, closing the door behind me.  
  
“How I’d hoped the rumours were false.” She said quietly, almost sadly, before heaving out a sigh. “I trust you understand the severity of what you’ve done?”  
  
“He saved my life.” I said weakly, pausing for a moment before explaining my story. “I know that I should have left him but…It felt wrong to repay such an act with cruelty.”  
  
“There are only two options, now, and I think you know that one of them won’t be your first choice.” She raised her eyebrows at me, the silver band across her face warping. “And it will be difficult for all the Hakeema to agree on the second. You’ve put us all—and yourself—in a very hard place.”  
  
“I do not wish for him to die but if the Hakeema deem it wise then I will obey.”  
  
“If we go through with the first decision you understand any repercussions fall on you, yes? Any ill that comes from affiliation with that Levantine will be solely yours to deal with. You are risking the lives of all your sisters if you choose this path…But I understand your motives and reasoning. Although I do not like it, I think we will agree in the end. As for you, a punishment should be dealt…But I believe the bond and all its worries and fears will be punishment enough. Bring him down when you are ready.”  
  
I bowed my head and she turned away to leave, but at the last moment I called her back. She turned slowly and waited patiently for me to get the words out.  
  
“If—If he hadn’t been Levantine…Would it have been as bad?”  
  
She sighed and then gave me a sad smile. “No, I don’t believe it would be.”  
  
After that she left me alone and I wandered back into the room, closing the door behind me. The Levantine was still asleep, chest rising and falling steadily to assure me he at least was still alive. I took his destroyed shirt and robe, grabbing the needle and thread before crossing over to the chair by his bed and beginning to stitch them back together. I worked for nearly an hour to make sure the stitches were tight despite the fact that he would likely just get new robes when he returned to Masyaf. I wondered how this was ever going to work out when he began to stir.  
  
“Drink that.” I nodded to the cup on the table beside him when he was coherent enough to listen. He struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain in his abdomen before reaching out to grab the cup. He eyed it wearily, eyes flickering up to me. “It’s for the pain.”  
  
When he was finished I tossed the shirt to him so he could clothe himself. For a while we sat in silence but eventually I summoned the courage to go over to him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I searched for the words to explain all that needed saying.  
  
“Your actions have put in motion a series of events that can only end one of two ways, Altair.”  
“I’m going to assume one of them ends with me dead.” He said, understanding full well where I’d brought him and what it was likely to cost me.  
  
“The only other option is for you to become my—” I stopped short at the door flying open. Rami and Yasmine were standing at the threshold and I stood up. Sighs of relief escaped them both as I crossed over to them. Yasmine embraced me and Rami pressed his lips to my forehead.  
  
“We saw the bodies in the street and the blood and they said someone was hurt—we thought it was you.” Yasmine explained, but I saw the way Rami was looking at Altair.  
  
“Ariyah, I know what you want to do but you can’t.” He said seriously, looking back at me. “Not him.”  
  
“Rami…I have no other choice.” I said quietly, shooting a look back at the assassin.  
  
“You _do_ have a choice. He is not your responsibility. He made his own choices.”  
  
“You would have me repay his deeds with a death sentence?” I asked, trying to keep my temper in check. This whole situation was giving me a splintering headache and filling me with anxiety. “Have you considered the repercussions of his execution? What if it sets the entire Levantine brotherhood against us?”  
  
“He can’t be trusted, Ariyah!” He said desperately. “He betrayed his own brothers and he will betray you too.”  
  
My eyebrows furrowed and I looked back to see the assassin sigh. When my voice came out it was almost a whisper. “Is this true?”  
  
“The other Levantines talk of his betrayal. They sought some treasure in Solomon’s Temple and after abandoning all the tenets of their creed he left one brother dead and another without an arm. This is who he is; I beg you not to make this mistake.”  
  
“It’s who I _was_.” Altair said gravely, getting to his feet. Rami made a move towards him but I stepped in between them, sighing.  
  
“Enough. Leave us. We have things to discuss.” I pressed my hand to his chest and pushed gently. Yasmine was giving a desperate look but I knew what needed to be done.  
  
“If you bring harm to any of the Aeterna, Levantine, I will hunt you down.” Rami threatened before leaving, Yasmine following behind him. I closed the door once more and sighed heavily, taking a few moments to compose myself before turning back to the assassin and ordering him to sit down.  
  
“I cannot deny what I did nor make excuses for my actions.” He said quietly, looking up at me. “But I was a different person then. If I wanted to kill you, you would have been dead.”  
  
“Why did you intervene?” I demanded harsher than I’d intended. He was quiet for some time, eyes falling to his own hands.  
  
“I respect what you do. We have the same means to the same ends, and if I was in your position I would have appreciated help. It didn’t seem just to leave you to die.”  
  
I pondered over his words for a while despite the fact deep down I had already made the decision. In fact I’d made the decision the second he was stabbed. Some part of me understood in that moment where all of this would leave us. _I should have just left him to die_. It would have been so much easier…  
  
“I have no choice but to make you my halif.” I explained finally.  
  
“Your—ally?”  
  
“It’s…It’s more than that. A halif bond between a sister and another is rare in the Aeterna. There have been few. What it embodies, ultimately, is trust. Trust, loyalty, and reliability. It means that you help me and I help you; that we are transparent with one another. That the Aeterna can depend on your aid in any matter, and in return I will aid you. It is complete and absolute faith, Altair; faith so deeply rooted that the slightest betrayal is punishable by death. I need you to fully understand the severity of being halif.”  
  
“It means I treat you as if you were part of the brotherhood.” He said after a moment. “That I put my life in your hands.”  
  
“And that I put mine in yours.” I added, heart racing as my mind ran through all the possibilities of how this could end badly. “And under normal circumstances you could walk away from this…”  
  
“But these aren’t normal circumstances.” He remarked lightly. I nodded, sighing heavily. “Well I can’t refuse, so…”  
  
“There is a ceremony that takes place, follow me.” I got to my feet, pulling my hair out of its holder as he got to his feet. “You should leave the robes—everyone is anxious enough about you already.”  
  
He hesitated but did as I asked, following after me slowly and trying to hide the wince with each step. I stayed near his side as we moved into the main hall, ignoring the looks and the whispers and the way they parted like the seas for Moses. I led him down a flight of stairs (which were altogether cruel, I realized too late) and into a narrow hallway that was completely empty save for one door at the very end. When we got to it I paused, hand hovering on the knob, and tried to calm the nerves within me. I looked back at him as if he could somehow give me evidence that this all would work out for the best, but he seemed just as uneasy about this as I was.  
  
I pushed open the door and walked into the adjoining chamber. It was a small circular room with a round stone platform in the middle. To the left was a fireplace, already burning, with a hot branding iron sticking out of it. The walls were covered in a mosaic of blue and green glass tiles, a series of foreign symbols laid into the design. More symbols spiraled on the platform all the way to the rock that lay at the centre, stained with drops of blood. Candles lined the platform and were set around the walls, all the light reflecting off the walls and making everything feel like a dream. The five Hakeema stood around the platform, Miriam across from us holding a sharpened blade.  
  
“Kneel before one another on the platform.” Khadija commanded. We did as instructed, although Altair clearly had more difficulty than I did. “When you rise from this stone you will be one.”  
  
“Hold out your right hands.” Jaida said quietly from behind me. Miriam stepped towards me first, gently taking my hand and drawing the blade across my palm from above my thumb to the tip of my wrist. Blood came to the surface and the skin began to sting but I stayed still as she did the same to Altair. The rest of the Hakeema began to mutter words I could not hear—a blessing or perhaps a spell. “Clasp hands, aligning your scars, and repeat your vows after me.”  
  
We listened to Miriam speak, all the while blood dripping onto the rock between us. The other Hakeema kept muttering and the light began to play tricks on my eyes, for it looked like the symbols on the wall and stone beneath us were glowing. Now and again Altair would meet my eye, the same apprehension working its way through him. When it was time we each made the oath to one another.  
  
“I, Altair, vow to remain loyal to the Aeterna. To aid all those who call themselves sisters, and lend my skills where they are needed. Through war and peace, from this day forth, under pain of death, until God reclaims my soul.”  
  
“I, Ariyah, as a sister of the Aeterna, accept your oath of loyalty. And in return I pledge my service and loyalty to you, Altair. Through war and peace, from this day forth, under pain of death, until God reclaims my soul.”  
  
Miriam nodded and an ache began to take hold of my muscles as the muttering grew louder. The more blood fell and the louder the voices, the more tired I began to grow. Finally Miriam spoke once more to signal the end of the ceremony.  
  
“Let the blood that passes between you bind your words forever.”  
  
With her words, though, I felt a strange sensation. At first I thought it was just Altair gripping my hand tighter, but I saw the same puzzlement mirrored on his face. It was as though something was pulling us together, like some magnetic force was bringing an unseen part of us nearer. A tie…a bond. It only lasted a few moments though, and then we were released and our hands fell away from one another and my whole body seemed to sink under the fatigue.  
  
Hawwa came quickly with the hot iron, the room silent now, and pressed a line of metal that matched the shape of my wound to my skin. It hurt horribly for an instant but it closed the wound and left a scar. She did the same to Altair before taking her spot once more.  
  
“Rise now: Ariyah Zafar, shakiha of the Aeterna, and Altair Ibn-La’ahad, halif of the Aeterna.” Jaida announced as the two of us shakily got to our feet. “And may God watch over the paths you lead.”  
  
We went back up to the healing room to get his belongings before I led the way to the exit. A strange feeling that I couldn’t place rose as I walked beside him, but the looks from the sisters were the same. I would find Yasmine and explain it to so the girls would understand. Once outside I stopped him.  
  
“Remember this, Altair Ibn-La’Ahad: my allegiance is sworn to you, not your brotherhood. I will help you and you alone only when the action does not put my sisters in harm.”


	5. Breaching the Walls

The repetitive motion of running the whetstone along different blades had become somewhat comforting over the years. The longer the blade, the longer it took to sharpen and clean, but sometimes it was nice to have something calm to do. I was working on Altair’s short blade when there was a loud noise in the street below. It sounded like someone chopping wood, but it was too far into the night for that to be reasonable.  
  
After leaving the Aeterna I brought the assassin back to my house to watch over him while his wound healed. The last thing I needed was him dying from stubbornness and lack of tending to the injury and then dropping dead—the brotherhood would no doubt see it as my fault if they ever found out what had happened. Despite his protest I set him up in my room, more so because at least there was only one entrance. If I locked the shutters over the window it would prevent anyone from getting in without making a racket first; and if they tried to get in the front door they would have to get past me first. I was paranoid that someone knew where I lived or had followed us and was waiting to kill him. Or at least me.  
  
The sound in the street woke the assassin and he sat upright before wincing and falling back down again. I creaked the shutters open a sliver to look down at the street, sitting back down beside the window when it looked like everything was fine. The Levantine looked over at me and calmed at my lack of concern. It was dark in the room, but the moonlight filtered in through the slats of the shutters and cast lines of light across his body.  
  
“Sleep.” I stared at him until he turned away from me and let his eyes close again; then I went back to work on the blade. When the sun came up Yasmine would likely visit: we would go through the same routine of her offering to keep an eye out while I actually slept, I would promise her I was fine, but she would eventually win. This had been going on for four days now, and I grew more tired with each passing day.  
  
The assassin had tried to leave on multiple occasions, the last one ending in a yelling match. At first I assumed the worse—of course, he was leaving to go tell all the Aeterna’s secrets to his brothers—but after enough yelling he eventually explained in far harsher words that he didn’t enjoy being a burden. It took me time to believe him but when the both of us finally calmed down we agreed he wasn’t well enough to leave yet. I couldn’t have him dying.  
  
When I finished the blade I set it beside him with all the rest of his weapons, armor, and the white robes that I tried to scrub the blood out of just to have something to do. Rami had visited once, the first night, though I made him leave after he started talking about the mistake I made. I didn’t talk much with the assassin; I mostly just brought him food and changed his bandages and told him to sleep and watched out the window. He was getting better, though. Not healed yet, but better.  
  
By the time the sun began to rise and the call for morning prayer came from the mosque, there was a knock on the door. I threw a quick look at the assassin to be sure he was a sleep before opening the front door to Yasmine. She brought with her fresh food from the market: dates, almonds, oranges, tomatoes, and some sweets from Hinda’s shop a few streets over. I greeted her with a tired smile and a kiss on either cheek, letting her in and locking the door behind her.  
  
“Rest now, Ariyah.” She commanded, laying the baskets down by the pantry. “I’ll watch over your Levantine.”  
  
“When the time comes, Yasmine…”  
  
“You can repay me in gold and rubies.” She teased, nudging me slightly before pointing to the couch. I was too tired to argue and gave in immediately, curling up against the hard pillows and pulling a blanket over me. The sound of Yasmine putting the food away faded until I was lost to the realm of the dream.  
  
By the time I woke it was well into the afternoon and I began to get things ready for dinner. Yasmine helped which made things much easier, but I still felt exhausted. We made a simple meal in a tajine I had lying around—a bit of couscous, some lamb, and vegetables. She portioned out the meal into different bowls and I went to bring one to the Levantine.  
  
He was thumbing through a book when I walked in and I would have let him continue if it had been any other book. My heart was racing as I froze in the doorway, his eyes going up to mine before slamming the thing shut and putting it off to the side. Hesitating a moment, I crossed over and took the book away before handing him the food.  
  
“Who are they?” He asked cautiously as I put the journal back in its place. Part of me wanted to ignore him completely, but I had to try and at least _partially_ work at being a good halif. At being honest.  
  
“The names of everyone I’ve ever had to kill.” My voice was quieter than I’d intended, so I made up for the timidity by looking him straight in the eyes. “So I never forget. So they don’t ever stop being human.”  
  
So _I_ never stopped being human.  
  
After that I did a quick check out the windows and left him, settling beside Yasmine in silence and wolfing down the food. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much that Altair had seen the names, but some part of me worried it would be viewed as weakness. I tried to remind myself that his opinion of me was worth less than nothing.  
  
When Yasmine and I had finished, she brought out a tiny ceramic pot filled with henna pasted. She beckoned me towards her rolled up my sleeves while I put up my hair. She began to draw out an intricate design on my arm that stretched from my fingertips all the way to my elbow. Yasmine was extremely talented with drawing and in fact had taken to giving the new girls their tattoos upon becoming assassins.  
  
We switched when she was done and I thought for a bit before drawing out a bunch of intertwining lines along her upper arm. By the time Altair limped into the room the night was taking over and lamps were burning. He slowly lowered himself into the chair adjacent to us and watched silently as I finished up the temporary tattoo. Yasmine would likely be as covered in ink as Altair if she didn’t grow tired of the designs so quickly.  
  
“Why don’t you give him another tattoo to add to the collection?” Yasmine asked, nodding towards the Levantine. He shifted in the seat when I turned to raise an eyebrow at him. Somehow the notion of making him uncomfortable made me willing to do it. Grabbing the henna I sat on the arm of the couch and told the white hood to pick a spot. He hesitated for a while before rolling up his sleeve and offering me his arm. I turned it over and found the biggest blank spot that I could before setting his arm on my knees. He watched as I carefully drew the circle of Ouroboros—the symbol of our sisterhood. Instead of putting an elemental sign within it (he would definitely be air with a streak of violent fury that would make him part fire) I wrote out a name for him within the circle: _Eagle’s Fury_.  
  
When I was done he nodded to me and Yasmine got to her feet. Altair winced as he rose as well, bowing slightly to Yasmine before going back to the room to get ready to change his bandages. Before she could open the door I held her back, casting a look over my shoulder at the retreating Levantine.  
  
“Has…Has there been any word from the Hakeema? For me?” I asked in a quiet voice. She smiled sadly and shook her head.  
  
“We’re a sisterhood of assassins, Ariyah.” She said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “If they wanted you dead, they wouldn’t toy with you first. I think they’re just giving us all— _including you_ —time to adjust. It’s been a long time since we had a halif, and even longer since we were expected to be peaceful with the Levantines. Things will settle soon, habiba.”  
  
I nodded, forcing a smile and kissing her cheeks. As my hand reached for the knob, though, there was a knock on the door. For a moment I panicked but it was the safe code so I figured there was only one person it could be. With a heavy sigh I opened the door to Rami. Yasmine looked between us and then took her leave, the two of us standing in silence for what felt like an eternity. Eventually he caved, clearing his throat and asking if he could come in. I said nothing but left the door open and walked to my room.  
  
Altair was sitting on the edge of the bed, starting to pull off his shirt but pausing at the sight of Rami. He looked over at me as if trying to gauge the situation, but instead of explaining I just motioned for him to continue. Pulling the small table over with the supplies on it, I handed him a bunch of different herb stalks to see if he could tell which one I used in the mixture.  
  
“Could we speak somewhere private?” Rami asked hesitantly from the doorway. I refused to look at him, focusing instead on the bandages as I arranged them on my lap and got the rest of the medicine ready.  
  
“Say what you will here, he is my halif.” I answered bluntly. Altair chose one of the plants and brought it to his mouth but I grabbed his hand at the last moment. “Look at the leaf. Memorize its shape. Do you feel the hairs on the bottom side? One leaf of this will kill you. It’s the leaf’s twin you want. This one.”  
  
I handed it to him and for a moment he studied the two, memorizing the differences. When he was finished he took the bowl of medicine and began to mix a few of the leaves in. I reached around him to get the old bandages off, inspecting the healing wound and handing him a wet cloth to clean it.  
  
“I wanted to apologize for the things I said.” Rami said from across the room, causing me to look over at him. “It was not my place and what I said was out of line. You do not need my permission nor my approval for the decisions you make. I trust your judgement. Forgive me.”  
  
“If I were in your place I would likely have reacted the same way.” I admitted, watching the white hood put on the medicine to make sure he did it correctly before helping him get the bandages on. “Let us put this behind us and not speak of it again. What’s done is done.”  
  
He nodded as I got to my feet and moved past me towards Altair with an outstretched hand. The Levantine hesitated for a moment before reaching out and returning the gesture. Rami wished him a speedy recovery before letting himself out. For a while the assassin and I were silent, but eventually I asked if he needed anything. He shook his head and I got up to leave but his words held me back.  
  
“May I ask something about the Aeterna?” His voice was quiet and I sighed, sitting back down beside him and nodding. I had expected this sooner or later. Expected and dreaded it. “If your sisterhood is so exclusive, what role does Rami play?”  
  
“He is one of a long line of _rasuls_ the sisterhood has used.”  
  
“A messenger?” He asked, leaning back on the bed as I nodded.  
  
“Sometimes there are things a man is better fit to do. Like walk through the streets at night unquestioned and not harassed.” I admitted hesitantly.  
  
“How many of them are there?” He could tell as soon as he asked that the question made me nervous. He sighed lightly, looking up at the ceiling for a moment and then back at me. “I know you don’t trust me but I mean you no harm. What do you want me to do to prove myself?”  
  
I raised an eyebrow at him. “What _can_ you do? You can’t exactly march me into Masyaf and show me all the brotherhood’s secrets. They’d think I was your whore and when they learned who I was they’d want to burn me.”  
  
We were silent after that and I regretted snapping at him. I was still tired from lack of sleep and anxious for being in the dark with the Hakeema and I felt distant from the sisterhood in general ever since the ceremony. Or maybe I snapped because he said he meant no harm, and I believed him. It had been _everyone’s_ first response to distrust him, and maybe we were all just scared that the animosity between the assassins was not entirely warranted. I sighed quietly and tucked the stray hair behind my ear.  
  
“Have you ever asked why there’s such bad blood between our kind?” He said after a while. I looked over at him, remembering the henna paste on his arm that was probably dry now. I moved closer, taking his arm and claiming the cloth from the table.  
  
“The Hakeema told me the story once. Before the brotherhood was a boys-only club it was just a few people. One of them was Amunet, have you heard of her?”  
  
“She killed Cleopatra with a snake.” He offered.  
  
“Well she was the only woman in the group. I can’t remember the details but there was a mission they were doing, a big mission, and one of the others made a fatal error and when the whole thing collapsed….they needed a scapegoat. Someone to blame. They left her there to die and called it a woman’s inability to make decisions on her own. She lived long enough to establish her own order where history would never repeat itself, and that was how the rift was made. The Aeterna was born from betrayal.”  
  
He digested the story as I got to my feet. As I thought about it, it almost made me mad. That we were entire groups of people pitted against one another when we should have been working together. But grudges were so easy to hold onto, especially when both sides thought they were right and the other was an enemy. I made it all the way to the doorway before he spoke.  
  
“I’m sorry. For what they did.” He said sincerely. I turned to look at him, nodding slowly. “And thank you for…looking after me.”  
  
“You need not apologize or thank me, Altair. One was not your fault and the other is a kindness I owe you.”  
  
After that he told me to get some sleep, that he was too awake for the moment and that he would keep an ear out for any noises. The exhausted part of me agreed immediately, and the corner of his mouth pulled up just a sliver. I reclaimed the couch for myself, extinguishing the lamps before getting comfortable. I expected to be up for a while, mind full of thoughts, but I fell asleep almost immediately.  
  
When I woke, I could tell at once that something was different. It took a moment for the grogginess to leave me but when it did I got to my feet and wandered around. When I went to check on Altair, it woke me right up. He was gone.  
  
My first instinct was that someone had taken him, but there was a severe lack of evidence. The bed had been made, everything was back to the way it was when he first came here, and nearly no trace of him was left. The medicine and bandages were gone from the table, and his weapons were gone from the windowsill. The only proof I had that wherever he went he was safe was a single plant set in the middle of the bed. It was the poisonous plant that I’d warned him about.  
  
A promise that he would be fine.


	6. Spirit of Damascus

There was something absurdly comforting about seeing the market full of people during the day. A symphony of meshing voices blurred into a minimal din that blanketed me as I walked amongst the people. A hundred bargains were being haggled to the tune of apples and dates and almonds being stocked into baskets. The jingle of coins punctuated the air almost as saliently as the smell of freshly baked bread. Abdel gave me a good price on a tagine to replace the one I’d broken and a new teapot for free; the benefit of having saved his daughter’s life.  
  
I picked up a few other things here and there: some fresh meat from the butcher, a jar of honey, some fruit preserves, and everything I would need to make a new batch of hummus. As I browsed the fruit, I made a list in my head of the things I would need to accomplish before returning to the Aeterna to see if I was needed. I was so deep in my own mind that I almost didn’t notice the oranges being added to my basket.  
  
Snapping out of my trance I watched as the Levantine paid the merchant and tossed a small tomato into his mouth. He took the basket from me and began to walk slowly, meaning for me to follow. It took me a moment to do so, but eventually I worked my way through the crowds to his side. The bigger part of me never expected to see him again. It had been the better part of three weeks since he disappeared, and yet to see him now you would never have guessed he’d been impaled and bed-ridden with frailty, counting on the mercy of a weary assassin to keep him alive.  
  
Once I fell in line beside him he followed me while I picked up a few more things, and despite my initial protest he proceeded to provide the coin for all of it. Afterwards we walked in silence all the way back to my home. I kept expecting him to say something, to tell me where he’d gone or why he was back or maybe even thank me for what I’d done for him but he said nothing. I endured the quiet as I opened the door, pointing to the table where I wanted the basket set.  
  
“The guards are beginning to grow more attentive.” He remarked casually, uncovering the basket as I opened the door to the pantry. Making eye contact with him, I jabbed two fingers into the part of him that I’d healed. He winced, taking a step back but working quickly to compose himself. I raised an eyebrow at him, silently challenging the time of his departure. But I was challenging so much more than that. It was the fact that I’d believed he would never return, that the Aeterna would have a reason to say _“We warned you,”_ that I truly had been fooled. Somehow his sudden appearance, while partially annoying, managed to put those fears to rest.  
  
“The corpses you leave behind are hard to ignore.” I said simply, putting the food where it belonged bit by bit. “Whose life are you here to claim? Or do you just plan on following me some more?”  
  
It took him a moment to understand I was teasing him, and the time it took made me regret it all together. He began to hand me the things from the basket, making the process go by quicker.  
  
“Abu’l Nuqoud.”  
  
“The Merchant King?” Everyone in Damascus knew of Abu’l Nuqoud, either from being in his favour or a recipient of his scorn. “Al Mualim cares for the lepers and beggars of Damas, does he?”  
  
“Nuqoud is a key member of the Templar circle.” Altair said flatly. “He has been named, so he shall be killed.”  
  
“Do not give him mercy. He hates all the poor and sees them as a blight upon the land. He believes the less fortunate to be the source of everything wrong with the world and is incredibly self-centred.”  
  
“If he was your target, when would you strike?” He asked as I closed the door to the pantry. Leaning back against it I crossed my arms.  
  
“So you came back for information.” For his stoic nature, the words seemed to sting him. I was hit with a backlash of guilt and turned away from him, going over to the couch and taking a handful of almonds from the bowl on the table. “The Merchant King loves nothing more than throwing parties to earn favour with the powerful and to torture those of lesser means. If you were to find your way into his palace during one of the parties, you would likely go unnoticed in the commotion. He will stay up in his balconies, but that should not prove as an obstacle for the angel of death.”  
  
He said nothing, only watching me for a while. I broke eye contact but he continued to watch me, a million unspoken thoughts flying through his mind. When he moved, it was only to walk towards the door. I watched his back as he left, the white fabric dusted with dirt from whatever scuffle he’d last been forced into. The Levantine pulled the door open and hovered at the threshold for a moment before turning back to me. He motioned for me to follow him, but all I could do was raise an eyebrow at the request. Did he want me to go with him on his mission?  
  
“You said before that you needed proof that you could trust me.” He explained quietly. “I may not be able to show you the secrets of Masyaf, but I can take you into the brotherhood.”  
  
For a moment I sat there considering his words, but when he motioned again I got to my feet. Making sure my hood was up and my weapons were equipped, I crossed over to him and walked out the door. After locking it I looked over at the assassin, studying his blank face.  
  
“Lead the way.”  
  
With a small nod he turned down a small alleyway and scaled the wall. I followed after him but as soon as I got onto the roof he left all pretenses behind and started moving at full speed. It was almost a thrill to be able to keep up with him, running along the rooftops and leaping over streets. We kept up the pace until the borders of the poor district edged closer. He led me over a few beams until I realized where he was taking me.  
  
On the rooftop we approached, latticework was in place of cement. There was a small opening and on the stone platform before it the symbol of the Levantine Brotherhood was carved. It acted like a giant flag for anyone who found their way up here. It was the biggest thing that puzzled me about the brotherhood: they boasted an entire city dedicated to their group and these little bureaus with so easily located entrances—it was a miracle they hadn’t been completely wiped out. But I understood the significance of Altair bringing me here, and it made me wonder how he’d ever managed to get the idea to fly with his bureau leader.  
  
He stepped up to the opening and quickly maneuvered himself down to the ground. Looking up at me, he lifted his arms as if offering to catch me. But bringing me to the city’s Levantine bureau wasn’t enough for me to trust him so completely. I ignored the offer and got down myself, using the dry fountain to get safely to the ground.  
  
I took in the sight of the place, having only ever stolen passing glances at it from afar. It was incredibly cool and quiet in the windowless place, and the opposite wall boasted a running fountain that made me feel like I’d slipped into an oasis. An array of big pillows littered the floor—some stained with blood and dirt—but the chamber was small in comparison to the main room. There were shelves full of bottles and jars and books, as well as a small upper level that spanned a quarter of the room where there was a low bed where I assumed the bureau leader slept. The leader stood behind the counter in his robes that marked his level in the brotherhood and eyed me cautiously, his face flickering in and out of view due to the smoke from the burning incense.  
  
“This is the bureau leader of Damascus, Hafiz.” Altair announced formally. I nodded to the man and he returned the gesture before looking over at his white-robed brother. “Just a little while.”  
  
“If any of the others find out I left my post with an Aeterna inside…” He began to say uneasily, slowly moving out from behind the counter and eyeing me once more. “Altair, they’ll have my hands. Or my tongue. Or my head. They’ll cut off _something_.”  
  
“You have my word, nothing will happen.” Altair pledged, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I am the only other Levantine in the city. Return when the sun’s shadow passes the third mark.”  
  
The man eventually nodded and disappeared from the bureau entirely, leaving the two of us alone. I wandered around the place once before testing the boundaries by moving behind the counter. Shooting a look back at Altair, he inclined his head as if to give me the okay.  
  
“There are a number of books back there…detailed accounts and histories of the city. Probably some about the brotherhood as well. They are yours to study at your will until Hafiz comes back. Some maps as well, outlining escape routes from the city and a number of abandoned underground passages.”  
  
He walked away from me, taking a seat at the small table across the room and resting his hands behind his head. I stood still for a short while, scanning the books in front of me before selecting one and cracking it open. A cloud of dust erupted from the pages (accompanied by a spider quickly fleeing its now broken home) and I leafed through it.  
  
It was what seemed to be one of the first accounts of the city’s history, and there were a number of volumes in varying levels of dust where I found it on the shelf. The majority of it was fairly basic retellings of a history I didn’t care for. Slipping it back in its spot, I crouched down to scan the spines of the books until I found a few that interested me. I pulled my hood down and tied back my hair before grabbing a chair and opening up what looked like something pertaining to the Levantine brotherhood.  
  
The assassins’ creed was the only phrase on the first page. It was written in large script and in stunning calligraphy. _Nothing is true, everything is permitted_. The author of the book went on to talk about this guiding philosophy of the order: how it restricted the slaughter of innocents and was meant to create peace within the world and the individual. The brotherhood followed three main moral tenets—never harming the innocent, hiding in plain sight, and never compromising the brotherhood. I looked over at Altair and thought back to the story Rami had told me of his deeds. Had he not broken all three of these tenets? Was he not potentially risking the brotherhood by letting me into this place and trusting me as he did? What did that say of his character? Or worse, what did it say of mine?  
  
When the Levantine caught my gaze I returned to the book, ignoring the feeling of his eyes lingering on me. A number of the pages were dedicated to detailed plans for the hidden blade sported by the brotherhood. Seeing it broken down into parts with all the notes from the original design completely de-mystified the complexity of the piece, but regardless I had to admit it was an extremely useful tool. The blade retracted easily and doubled as a vambrace which, with the proper metal, could probably withstand a direct hit from the sharpest sword. Even so there were a number of things that might be adjusted to give more options for different uses.  
  
“Is the man who invented the hidden blade still alive?” I asked, eyes glued to the design. My fingers were tracing over it when the white hood got to his feet and answered that he in fact was, although likely not for much longer. At the response I looked up at him, pushing all my hair to one side. “Have you ever thought about putting poison on the blade? To kill someone slower? A…venom perhaps.”  
  
He studied me carefully before crossing the room and leaning on the counter, glancing over the book. I grabbed his blade-wielding arm and brought the blade out, explaining that if a small vial with a wide neck was filled with some toxin, the tip of the blade could be dipped in it and the target wouldn’t have to be stabbed thoroughly to be killed. When I stopped talking I searched the assassin’s face for some sort of feedback, but all he did was stare.  
  
“It would make fleeing a thousand times easier if a herd of guards weren’t giving chase.” He nodded, looking down pensively at his arm in my grasp. I nodded once and released him, pulling the book closer and continuing to scan through the pages. I expected him to return to his corner but instead he claimed one of the books from the pile I had and began to do the same.  
  
The different levels of the order were listed, from assassin to leader to rafiq to student and everything in between. It amused me to see how our orders mirrored one another, with different levels of the members wearing different colours. The author went on to outline the purpose of the brotherhood and the methods—all of which were frighteningly similar to the Aeterna. I knew we had books just like this one in the library within the same district. Part of me wondered what I would find different in the one by the Aeterna, if anything.  
  
Closing the cover, I picked out one that looked frequently used. It was a history of the different families in the city, as well as immigrating citizens. I meant to skip it entirely before I realized that there was a possibility the book could actually help me. When I was still a _kasr_ in the Aeterna I asked about my parents. The story was told to me but the only name I was ever given was my mother’s. If I could find her, I might be able to find the man she married…  
  
I began to furiously flip through the pages, silently cursing the lack of any real organization to the family trees. The search continued and I ignored the assassin’s looks until I finally found the family tree for _Zafar_. I followed it down until I found the name _Lunah Zafar_ , and a line tying her to her only husband: _Suhaim Nejeb_. There was a line from the both of them with the words daughter (deceased) to sum up my entire existence. To the brotherhood, I did not exist. But what drew my attention more was the note beside my father’s name; apparently at some point he assumed a new identity and the brotherhood found some reason to take notice of it. Now he went by the name _Yasar Darzi_.  
  
I stared at the name, holding my finger beneath it to force the black letters to burn into my memory. My jaw clenched as I fantasized about meeting him. Fantasized about destroying him. It was only when I caught the Levantine reading the name I was accidentally pointing to that I closed the book and slid it away from me. I looked over at him looking at me and prepared a thousand rebuttals for anything he might’ve said, but all he did was watch. This unrealistically effective statue of a killer that seemed to be dissecting more and more by the minute. It unnerved me, feeling like he was somehow grasping my persona, to the point where I turned away from him and quickly put the books back.  
  
To ease my nerves I resorted to browsing the selection of bottles on the shelves, amused to find an array of medical ingredients that would prove useful if (or, more likely, _when_ ) one of the assassins arrived with some sort of injury. Soon after Hafiz returned and I left without needing to be told, scaling the wall and heaving myself out onto the roof. The name was still clouding my mind to the point where I barely noticed the Levantine following me as I moved across the rooftops. I nodded for him to follow, spurred by a sudden desire to repay the favour he didn’t know he’d done for me.  
  
I led him all the way into the centre of the Middle District before finding my way to the Barada River. He kept pace with me as I moved down to the water’s edge and stepped into one of the empty canoes. Despite the raised eyebrow he got in anyways and picked up an oar, following my minimal directions for where we were going. About three quarters of the way up the river, closer to the outer walls, I finally stopped beneath one of the bridges.  
  
“Tell me what you see.” I said quietly, looking over at him. He hesitated for a moment before searching the landscape around us.  
  
“A bridge…People…Guards…What am I looking for?”  
  
“I didn’t ask you to look, I asked you to _see_.” Leaning back against the boat, I watched as he struggled with the command. At first he continued what he had been doing: looking far away for something that might be important. Then he paused, having a moment of clarity, and instead began to run his eyes over the closer surroundings and eventually the wall beside us. He reached out and grabbed one of the wooden posts, pulling the canoe closer so he could run his fingertips along the stones. When he finally saw it, he stopped.  
  
“The symbol of the Aeterna.” He said to himself before looking back at me for confirmation. There on the stone the circle was carved, ouroboros’ eternal shape and all four elemental symbols within him. Bracing myself on the second post, I leaned forward and pushed on the brick until it fell back into a hollow. Carefully slipping my hand inside, I pushed the bricks towards me until about ten of them popped forward in a solid sheet attached to a plank of wood. It hung open like a drawer and, when the dust cleared, I pulled out the item hidden within.  
  
“There are a number of alcoves like this in all of the cities the Aeterna is stationed in. These backpacks are filled with basic supplies to last a number of days in the event one needs to disappear for a while. I’ll give you a map marking their locations, all I ask is that you…”  
  
“Keep the locations to myself.” He finished, nodding once. I handed him the pack and he rummaged through it, taking note of the contents. When he was done he put it back in the alcove, picking up the marked brick before closing the entire thing up again. He grabbed the oars and pushed us away from the wall before paddling us down to the nearest dock. We climbed back up to the street and from there we went our separate ways. He did, after all, have a man to kill.  
  


* * *

  
  
The bells rang out the next day at noon. They tolled their urgent sounds as word spread like wildfire. People in the streets began to chant _‘The Merchant King is dead! The Merchant King is dead!’_ I expected the Levantine to leave the city after that, but when the bells went silent he returned to me. Blood stained the front of his robes and he seemed uncharacteristically unnerved by something. I quickly closed the door behind him and watched as he slowly took a seat. Pouring him a drink, I sat on the table in front of him and made him drink.  
  
“What happened?” It made me nervous to see him this way. I hadn’t seen him this animated since he was impaled by half a spear and bleeding to death. The statuesque nature of Masyaf’s finest assassin had become somewhat of a comfort to witness. A constant. It took him a few moments to compose himself but even when he did he refused to look at me.  
  
“Nuqoud…He said something before he died.”  
  
“Dying men often speak spiteful things in an attempt to have the last word.” I offered as he placed the empty glass beside me. He started to shake his head though, staring at a blank spot on the wall behind me.  
  
“He spoke of me blindly following Al-Mualim’s orders…perhaps nothing more than spiteful words and yet they have not left my mind.”  
  
“You are an assassin of the Levantine Brotherhood, Altair.” I assured him, wondering why I felt such empathy for him. “It is your duty to follow the wisdom of your leader.”  
  
Yet even as I spoke the words I could not help but think of a rebuttal to my own argument. There was no guarantee that the leader—be it the mualim or the Hakeema—would be correct all of the time.  
“Where do we draw the line between freeing people to think for themselves and becoming blind sheep ourselves, entrusting the lives of strangers in one man?”  
  
His words grabbed hold of something deep down inside of me. Some alienated part was nodding along with him, understanding that his doubts, Nuqoud’s words, they had some element of truth in them. Of course I believed the sisterhood—and, likely, the brotherhood—was doing the right thing and mostly changed the world for good, I could not help but wonder every now and again if we really were saving people the right way…or the easy way.  
  
“You cannot dwell on such thoughts, Altair.” My voice was so weak I barely heeded the words myself.  
The internal battle made me uneasy and whatever magic carved the halif bond between us made me feel echoes of his distress as well, all of it becoming too much for me. I got to my feet and heaved him up as well, leading him out the door without a word. He followed along when I released him and did not ask any questions even as we approached the brothel and slipped through the side entrance. Finding the tapestry, I pulled it back to reveal the door and pulled off my necklace.  
  
“There are only two living people who are not sisters of the Aeterna who know the key to getting into bases, and you are one of them. Any sister would rather sacrifice her own life than risk letting enemies inside the base, which is why the necklaces were made so that only allies could handle them. If you try to grab anything but the head or tail of the snake, barbed spikes will pierce the skin deeply.”  
  
I fed the snake through the door and led the white hood inside. The main hall was mostly empty save for a few of the young _kasrs_ who stared unabashedly as we passed. Almost everyone would likely be in the ceremony hall for the newest graduation of girls into the ranks of _shakihas_. The Levantine kept pace with me despite his eyes wandering, taking in every new sight on the way to the main event. The few others we passed on the way stared as if we were Templars.  
  
“Have there been many halifs?” He asked in a low voice as we walked. I shook my head, making eye contact with each sister we passed in an attempt to let them know I could see them. In an attempt to shame them for their actions.  
  
“Very few. Most were familial relations—siblings, cousins. Occasionally they were made for political alliances…but never a Levantine. Miriam is the only living member of the Aeterna who had a halif, but he died.”  
  
“What happened?” He asked as we turned down the final hallway. I paused, watching the entrance for a moment before meeting his eyes.  
  
“He was her husband…and the Templars killed him in front of her.” My voice was flat despite the pain twisting inside of me. Miriam had once told me the entire story, when I was younger. It was so much more gruesome than that, but I didn’t think he needed to know the details. “I think it’s the reason she is the most sympathetic to you.”  
  
After a moment of silence I led him into the halls, trying to ignore the way the girls parted like the seas for us. The commotion drew many eyes but I pushed on until I found a spot that pleased me and kept my eyes facing front. A couple of the older sisters and Saffiya silently chastised the girls, bringing everyone’s attention back to the stage where the ceremony commenced.  
  
He watched intently as the four girls were formally sorted into their elemental groups, given their honorary dagger, and graced with words of wisdom from the Hakeema. We also took time to mourn the loss of one of the young _kasrs_ who perished during her tehjareb from a scorpion’s sting. Khadija stepped forward from amongst the Hakeema after the room went quiet and raised her voice to reach the ends of the hall.  
  
“We have secured a location in Acre and ask that any who seek to aid the start-up of the new base come forward.” The crowd began to murmur but after a few moments a few sisters could be seen working their way to the front of the room. The ceremony was concluded and everyone began to file out of the hall, returning to wherever they’d been before. We were among the last to near the entrance and just as Altair opened his mouth to speak, my name was called.  
  
“Hawwa wishes to speak with you.” One of the sisters announced, eyes shifting from me to the white hood. “She waits for you at the front of the hall.”  
  
I instructed the Levantine to wait in the hallway as I turned back, moving through the sisters behind me until I caught sight of the Hakeema. She was alone by one of the pillars which was strange, as the Hakeema usually travelled together. Nonetheless I approached her and bowed.  
  
“I will not waste breath on small talk, Ariyah, these bones grow weaker every day and I find myself in need of more and more rest.” Her voice was much stronger than she was. “Your time with the Levantine has not gone unnoticed. He comes to you before his own bureau leader when he enters the city; he is beginning to rely on you.” She began, wincing slightly as she shifted her weight.  
“I don’t understand…He is my halif. Are we not supposed to aid one another?”  
  
“Sweet child, it is not a secret that this was a halif bond born out of desperation and your good intentions. If you had your choice of a halif I do not doubt it would not be _Altair Ibn-La’Ahad_.” She leaned forward on her cane and heaved out a sigh. “I believe the boy will keep the Aeterna’s secrets, but that is all you truly require of him.”  
  
I could not hide the confusion on my face, my eyebrows furrowing as I tried to properly grasp her words. “So, you’re saying that I should…”  
  
“We think it would be better if you distanced yourself from him. You need not rely on a white hood when you have your sisters.”  
  
“I will do what you believe to be best.” The words came out instinctively, but all I could hear in my head was an echo of Altair’s earlier thoughts. With a bow I left, meeting up with the assassin in the hallway and leading him outside. The subtle frown on his face let me know he could tell something happened. Once we were in the street I stopped, turning to him and trying to ignore the feeling of guilt blooming within. “The Hakeema…They believe it would be best if we…You should not seek me out again.”  
  
I waited for a demand for an explanation, but he said nothing. With a blank face his eyes burned holes into mine before he turned from me, wordlessly. I wanted to tell him it was not my decision, that I would still aid him if he wished it, but what right did I have doubting the orders of the Hakeema? My entire life was centred around trusting them fully, regardless of my own thoughts. And yet even when he was out of sight, the halif bond remained strong…


	7. The Snake Eater

The moon was a bright fixture in the cloudless night sky as I slowed the horse’s pace. His hooves sank into the sand with each step and I wondered if he was as tired as I was. The air was so cool that I needed to pull my robes tightly around me to keep the chills at bay. That was the deceptive nature of the desert: unforgivingly hot during the day and almost freezing cold at night. How anything survived out here was a miracle.  
  
When I got close I dismounted and grabbed hold of the reins, leading the horse through the sand. Up ahead of me was the travelling caravan that profited off of travelers like me. You could rent tents for the night from merchants, buy some supplies, horses, and especially food and water. The flexibility of these merchants had been the difference between life and death for many a pilgrim in the past. The caravan moved along the main roads between large cities, serving as a beacon of light in an otherwise vast and lonely sea of land.  
  
I had a plan for when I finally got to Jerusalem: I would start by visiting the safe house at Sabeen’s Brothel and ask the girls if they knew anything about my target. It was difficult, mainly because Jerusalem was a big city and I doubted this Slave-Master was the only one disguising his business as something else. All I could do was hope that there weren’t many suspicious carpet sellers in the poor district. Worst case scenario was that the man known as The Chain was no longer working from the city and had moved elsewhere. No, the real worst case scenario was that the sister sent out to kill him a month ago was dead and not just captured.  
  
Approaching one of the merchants in charge of tents, I left the horse behind me and bartered for a small tent for the night. He led me to the one I would be using and pointed me in the direction of some hot food to purchase. After I tied up the horse I followed the man’s directions, approaching a merchant with six large pots that smelled heavenly. My stomach growled loudly and as I waited in line my eyes wandered around the surroundings. At the far end of the tent section I caught sight of familiar white robes. Altair was tying up his own horse, but if he saw me he made no show of it.  
  
When I made it to the cook I got a bowl of harira for myself, finishing it quickly before ordering a full lamb tagine. Even as I carried the hot pottery towards his tent my insides were twisting up. I just wanted to leave it there and escape to my own tent where I could push the Levantine from my mind and focus on the reason I was here. When I approached the tent I meant to set the tagine just inside the canvas but the white hood exited at that exact moment. We both froze, but when I realized neither of us would speak I simply set the food down and turned away, working to keep my paces normal until I found my tent. It had been over a month since the night outside the Aeterna, and I didn’t at all blame him for the coldness he showed me.  
  
After a quick sweep of the small tent I made myself comfortable on the cot and watched as the snake uncoiled from around my neck and slithered off into the night. When it returned it would be full of some meal that would last at least a week in its belly. I forced myself to forget the white hood’s face and instead run through my plan again for the next day when I arrived in the city.  
  
I remembered dreaming about the snake turning into a giant and coming at me as if to strike, but protecting me instead. Only the snake wasn’t my snake and it wasn’t me, but a version of me. An echo of an echo of a long forgotten memory. It was protecting me from a golden orb in an orchard of apples, but past that I remembered nothing. There was no time for me to dwell on it, though, because when I was coherent enough to open my eyes a man fell in through the front of the tent. I scrambled away from him and quickly drew my blade only to notice the deep red pooling around him in the sand. The ground worked fast to drink it all up, but while it was busy quenching its thirst I heard a gurgling noise outside of the tent and carefully stepped outside.  
  
Another man fell at my feet, just as dead as his friend, while a third sat on his knees facing me with panic in his eyes. Altair held a blade to his throat and gripped his head tightly, looking me in the eyes but speaking to the hostage.  
  
“Tell her why you are here and I will spare you” He said in a low voice, the blade pressing hard against the man’s skin. He was trembling, absolutely petrified at the sight of his fallen comrades.  
  
“The Templars!” He cried, eyes wide and breaths unsteady. “They hired us to kill any red hoods that we came across!”  
  
“He speaks the truth.” Altair confirmed, sheathing his blade but keeping a grip on the man. I tightened my grasp on the blade in my hand and stepped closer. The man cried out for mercy, trying desperately to get away, but the assassin’s grip on him was solid. “I didn’t say that she would spare you.”  
  
In one swift movement I delved the blade deep into the man’s skull, leaving it there for a moment before reclaiming it. Altair released him and he fell down like the others. Immediately I sheathed my blade and bent down to grab one of the men’s legs, dragging him behind the tent. Altair helped me with the others but when he was finished he turned to leave without a word.  
  
“Altair—” I called out, making him turn around. I held his gaze as I stepped towards the tent and motioned for him to come inside. He hesitated but eventually gave in and joined me. We sat across from each other as I tried to find the appropriate words to apologize. “This marks another debt I owe you. I would likely have been killed by those men had you not been…”  
  
“You underestimate your own abilities.” He said simply, eyes focused on the snake coiled on my pillow.  
  
“What you said about…about drawing the line between obedience and foolishness…” He looked up at me and I hesitated, pushing my hair over my shoulders. “It was wrong of me to push you away. I’m beginning to suspect the order was only on Hawwa’s part, not the entire Hakeema’s. You are my halif, and I should not have wronged you in such a way. Forgive me.”  
  
He was silent much longer than necessary, doing nothing but staring and evaluating my words, but at last he spoke and put me at ease. “You did as you were bid, I cannot blame you for it.”  
  
“At dawn I ride for Jerusalem.” I explained to him who I sought out and where I planned to get my information.  
  
“Al Mualim has named Majd Addin.” He offered in return, confirming my beliefs that he too was heading for the holy city. “He has named himself ruler of Jerusalem and delivers his own lethal justice to all those who oppose him.”  
  
“I will help in any way that I can.”  
  


* * *

  
There were a number of reasons why I preferred Damascus over the other cities in the kingdom. The biggest one, aside from the fact that the Aeterna base was stationed there and it was my birth place, had to do with the guards. In Damascus, city guards took it upon themselves to administer justice. In Jerusalem, they were more strict about such things. Formal executions took place much more often and there were Templar soldiers stationed around guarding chests. Neither city compared to the hostile nature of Acre, though. I loathed Acre with my whole being.

“Please, just a few coins! I beg of you!” A woman dashed in front of the two of us as we walked through the streets. She came as close as possible without actually touching me, ignoring my attempts to side step her. The real beggars in the city didn’t walk around in robes of such high quality, despite the woman’s attempts to dirty it. I gently pushed her out of the way but she kept coming at me, screaming. “No! You don’t understand! I have _nothing!_ My children are sick and hungry!”

“Your children will be motherless if you do not find someone else to bother, woman.” I hissed, pulling up my red hood for her to see. Her eyes went from the fabric to the snake on my neck, the sudden realization forcing her backwards.

“F-forgive me.” She stammered out, walking as far back as she could before turning on her heel and speeding away. The corners of the white hood’s mouth drew up slightly into a smirk, but I ignored him.

Sabeen’s brothel was only a block away, and when we arrived I took us around to the back of the building. Carefully counting the balconies and windows, I pointed out which room we needed to get into. I led the way, scaling the wall and making sure I stayed out of sight from anyone who happened to look out their window—though, I sincerely doubted anyone would be that bored. The glass doors needed only a push to glide open, and inside the small room a girl was waiting.

“Ariyah.” She smiled, crossing over to me and kissing either of my cheeks. She nodded to the Levantine before turning around and claiming a small pile of clothes from the bed. “I will tell Sabeen you’ve arrived. When you are ready, find me by the staircase and I will go down with you.”

She handed me the clothes and I thanked her, immediately taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she left. My boots took time to unlace but eventually they found their place on the floor, and soon after my weapons did as well. The assassin leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning the room until the door opened.

“Unfortunately we must skip the pleasantries, we’re much busier than usual because of the festival.” Sabeen announced, closing the door behind her and crossing the room to the armoire beside the white hood. She opened a drawer and popped out the fake bottom to access a folded up piece of paper concealed underneath. Unfolding it, she pointed to a red circle on the map of the city.

“This is his shop. You’ll find him there but I don’t know when—you’ll have to ask the girls for what they know. There are some guards downstairs in the dancing pavilion who Leena says work for The Chain on occasion. You’ll take the goblet drum player’s spot near them and be able to hear all they say. May luck favour you both. And you—” She paused with her hand on the doorknob, pointing to Altair. “If you go downstairs you cannot wear those robes—the girls will ignore it but the patrons will not. I _refuse_ to let a fight break out unless you want to hide the bodies, clean the blood, and buy new fabric and rugs. Plain clothes, if you will. And Ariyah, make sure your tattoo is hidden.”

With that she was gone, noise pouring in from the hallway in the few seconds the door was open—and disappearing just as quickly. Altair was eying the map in my hands and took it from me when I offered it to him. Taking off my robe, I pulled my hair up into a high pony tail and made sure the khol was layered onto my eyes properly before exchanging my snake necklace for a golden one on the dresser.

“I need to check in with the bureau leader and get a few leads on Addin.” He announced, setting the map on the bed were I piled all of my things. I nodded to him before taking the perfume left for me and spraying it onto my skin. “I’ll return later with any news.”

When he left I realized that was his way of telling me not to go after The Chain alone. His way of saying he wanted to help. I closed the glass doors before stripping out of my attire and putting on the appropriate clothing that the girls wore. It was billowy and mostly see-through: a pair of pants and a long sleeved shirt that was uncomfortably low cut and left my midsection bare. At least it was red, though. I left the snake curled up in my old clothes and tucked everything under the bed just to be safe.

Leena was waiting at the top of the stairs, just as she said, and motioned for me to follow her. The second and third level of the building were solely rooms, the main floor was where the choosing happened. Sabeen ran a high-end place in the middle district, which meant more risk of being recognized but also a greater chance of hearing the information I needed.

The dancing pavilion had a grand entrance nearly ten feet wide, but the real beauty was inside. I never bothered to ask if this building had been something else before or if she really had just made everything look this way on her own. There were at least twenty different seating areas, each sectioned off with blue and green sheer curtains. About ten people could fit into each area, and every seat had full view of the main attraction: the girls. Every time a new patron came in a group of girls went over to immediately start their own personal show. Some preferred to watch from afar, which was the purpose of the group of dancers in the middle of the place.

Off to one corner a few girls were working musical instruments, and that was where Leena led me. I picked up the goblet drum and played a few notes to refresh my memory. The real musicians began a new song and I came in when it felt appropriate while studying the group of eight guards to my right. They had a flock of girls in the booth with them, and littered on the table were a collection of emptied (and knocked over) mugs. The lot of them stunk of ale, and were roaring about some joke one of them had made.

“I asked around and few of the girls know anything about The Chain besides the fact he covers his slave trade with a carpet business. There’s a rumour that he rounds people up from the streets on Thursday nights, but I cannot confirm if it is true. I wish I could help you more.”

She left me with a weak smile to join the dancing girls, and so began the game of waiting. Waiting and listening. It took dedication and concentration to successfully split my brain between keeping up a good tempo and listening to the men for any key words. I caught myself on a number of occasions focusing too much on the music, swaying with it and tapping my feet. What worried me more were the times I caught one of the guards looking over at me. Despite the fact that my back was facing away from them and I wore a small translucent veil over my nose and mouth, I still worried that one of them would recognize me.

Looking around at these girls, I wondered what my life would have been like if I had walked a different path. If I hadn’t chosen to don the red cloak and wield a blade. Would I be a beggar in the streets? A leper in the forgotten corners of the city? A scammer in the bazar? Or would I have sisters of a different kind, sisters like these girls? Perhaps I would have just killed myself by now—or worse, been killed.

The music went on for hours until my hands began to ache. A few times I thought the men would say something worthwhile but the subject was always changed. The other musicians put down all their instruments and another group of girls came to claim them. I decided I would join the dancers to give my hands a break, but made sure to keep myself out of the guards’ line of sight. It was during the lull of silence as the instruments were tuned that I finally caught something helpful.

“He said tonight, right?”

“Shh! Lower your voice!”

“Relax, it’s a bunch of whores. They never leave this place anyways. What time again?”

“Once the sun sets, just like the last fourteen times.”

“Why is it always after dark? My wife always complains when I miss dinner.”

“She probably knows you’re usually here, Ahmed.”

“It’s always after dark because he doesn’t want to be seen paying us, you fool. Now enough, Hossein is right, we should not discuss these things so openly.”

The music started up just as they finished and I silently thanked God for the stroke of luck. When the girls began to dance I did too, recalling the image of the map in my head and planning my route to the marked location. From here it would probably take about ten minutes by rooftop, but I wanted no chance of being seen—I would go through the streets and then worry about finding an appropriate vantage point.

There were no windows in the pavilion, so I couldn’t tell the hour, but I knew I still had some time. We arrived in the city before midday, and it had only been a few hours according the rotation schedule of the girls. One of the guards continued to eye me, though I couldn’t tell what his intentions were. I was in the middle of devising a way to get back upstairs without drawing attention when Leena took me by the hand and led me over to a man who had just come in. He was sitting alone at the far end of the pavilion, and barely acknowledged our presence as we walked towards him.

It was only when we got close up that I realized it was the Levantine. I was so used to seeing him in his assassin robes that plain clothes seemed the true costume for him. Leena began to dance so I mimicked her, rolling my hips and moving to the beat of the drum as best as I could. After a few minutes I went over to him, bracing myself on the couch and leaning close. Hovering my face near his, for a brief moment I had the urge to kiss him. It was just the closeness, I told myself. That was it…

“The guards are watching me.” I said quickly before getting up and dancing again. He kept his eyes on me for a moment before quickly glancing across the room at the extremely loud and extremely drunk group of Jerusalem’s finest. He reached out and took my hands, bringing me closer to him while keeping up the act.

“Take me upstairs.” He said simply, flinching slightly as I climbed onto his lap. He shrugged back into the role and put his hands on my hips as I spoke once more.

“You have to _pay_ me first.” I leaned back as far as I could and came back up again as he pulled a bag of coins from his pocket. He handed it to me and I got to my feet, pretending to count it before slipping it down the front of my shirt. After that Leena left and I took him by the hands, leading him towards the staircase.

“ _Stop!_ ” A man’s voice boomed across the room, cutting the music short and causing a few girls to gasp. I froze, slowly turning around. My worst fears came true at the sight of the guard who had been eyeing me standing up. He took a few wobbly steps forward as his comrades laughed. “Her…I want her.”

“You can have her when I’m finished.” Altair said briskly, pulling me against him. He placed one of his hands flat on my back, strategically blocking my tattoo. His words, however, did nothing to appease the guard.

“I don’t want her _after_ , I want her _now_.” He reached to his waist but gripped an empty sheath—Sabeen enforced a strict no weapons policy. They were all surrendered at the front doors in an attempt to keep the girls safe. “Give her to me!”

“That’s _enough_.” Sabeen appeared on the staircase, staring daggers at the guard. “You know the rules of this place. Hold your tongue or I will have you removed.”

The whole atmosphere was tense until Sabeen motioned to the musicians to resume the music. Reluctantly, the girls began to dance again and eventually the man found his seat. Sabeen beckoned us upstairs and I nodded, taking the Levantine’s hand once more and leading him to the third floor. We were nearly at the room when a girl came running towards us.

“You’re—You’re _her_ , right?” She asked wearily, casting a look over her shoulder before I nodded. “Forgive me, I hope I’m not too late. One of the men was…Anyways. Leena told me who you seek and I hoped I might be able to help. It isn’t much, but if he isn’t in his shop you can go to the harbours and ask for him. N-not by his name in Jerusalem, his real name. Yasar Darzi.”

Every muscle in my body tensed at her words. I stared at her, trying to determine if this was some kind of joke. Some kind of horrible, sick, twisted prank. But she was sincere and wholly blind to the impact of what she had just said. It took me a moment to realize that my grip on the assassin’s hand had strengthened tenfold, and I immediately released him.

“Thank you.” I said quietly, turning away from her and going into the room. The Levantine followed after me, closing the door softly. I tried to bury the rising storm in my stomach, claiming his money and tossing it back to him.

“Was that name familiar?” He asked after a moment. I hesitated before nodding, but refused to speak the word _father_. Instead I asked him to turn around while I put my real clothes back on. I brought my things over to the armoire and kept behind it as much as I could. Every now and then I checked to make sure he wasn’t looking, but he was too preoccupied with getting his own robes back on. When I was finished I let the snake wind up my sleeve and around my arm.

“I’m going.” The glass doors pulled open with ease and I climbed onto the balcony. The assassin asked if I knew where he would be and I nodded before scaling the wall. It did not surprise me that he followed soon after, but I didn’t know if I wanted him to be there. This felt like something I had to do on my own; but at the same time I needed someone to keep me in line and remind me why I was there. Once on the ground I followed the map for a good fifteen minutes through the streets of Jerusalem into the heart of the poor district.

The streets around the carpet shop were empty. It was as if people knew to avoid the place entirely, but it worked to my advantage. The sun was beginning to set and I had two choices: either go in now, or wait until the guards had come and gone. Although it may have been better to choose the latter, my nerves forced me to opt for the former. There were two entrances so I decided to sprint towards the one that exited into an alleyway. I peered through the small window in the door and saw that no one was inside, so I picked the lock and slipped inside.

It opened into a small storage room with a cellar door presumably for wine. I bypassed the room completely and made for the main room, a large open space with a plethora of carpets in varying designs and colours. The Levantine stayed close on my heel as I wandered about, but my browsing was cut short.

“You’re lucky, I was just about to close for the day.” A man said in a light-hearted tone. He looked so…plain. I had fabricated such a horrific image of him in my head that the truth was disappointing. He had a big nose and thin lips, overbearing eyebrows and a pot belly, but his jawline…was my jawline. His eyes were my eyes. “Can I offer a selection of well-priced rugs? We just received these ones today.”

“Are you the owner of this shop?” I asked in a voice far weaker than I’d intended. He smiled and bowed his head. “Suheim Nejeb?”

He froze at the name, the smile on his face dropping immediately. With wide eyes he stared, eyes flickering from me to the white hood. “How do you know…”

“You had a family once, in Damascus. A wife. A…daughter. But when your wife died and left you with an infant child you found the responsibility far too great, did you not?”

“Leave this place! Be gone!” He backed up until he hit a pile of rugs and could go no further. I took slow steps towards him, heart racing and aching at the same time. “Don’t make me call the guards; they will hang you for trespassing.”

A man—probably one of his accomplices—came shuffling into the room with a large scimitar, but I was too busy focused on my father to notice anything until it was over. Altair had plunged a throwing knife into the man’s chest and he fell at my feet, barely causing me to flinch. The Chain’s fear multiplied tenfold.

“So heavy a burden was this child that one day you went through all the trouble of finding a venomous snake and set it in the crib beside her in hopes it would kill her. But it didn’t. And that terrified you. So much so that three snakes later you finally decided she must be a monster. A demon. So you stumbled through the streets in the middle of the night and left her in a whore house, stammering how you tried and failed to kill her. And then you left…But did you truly think you could run from your demons forever, old man?”

“You…” He stared at me in wonder as I drew just a few feet in front of him. “I knew you would find me. I knew there was evil in you.”

“It takes evil to find evil.” I hissed, swiftly bringing my hand to his neck. The snake came forth in an instant, striking at his throat repeatedly until he pushed me away. I watched as he stumbled away, holding a hand to his open wounds. “I should thank you, really. The story you told made its way through the Aeterna sisterhood of assassins, and it made me as feared as I am today. The Snake Eater claims your life in the name of the sisterhood, and rids the world of one more evil man.”

He blinked rapidly and I knew the poison was working fast on him. In a few minutes he collapsed to the ground, taking heaving breaths. I hovered for a moment before kneeling beside him, watching as the blind and half-paralyzed man slowly died.

“Do you regret what you did?” I asked quietly. His head turned to face the source of the sound, and yet even with his dying breaths he forced out a syllable.

“ _No._ ”

Despite wishing to leave him there to die and rot, I needed to be sure that he was well and truly dead before anyone came looking for him. With a deep breath I took the dagger from my side and plunged it deep into his skull. I stayed there for a few minutes, looking at the sight of his lifeless body, before finally pulling away and sheathing my blade.

“Natari di zeem.”

With that I got to my feet, refusing to acknowledge the burning sensation in my eyes. I walked back the way I came but stopped in the small storage room. There was a tapping noise that was quiet at first, but when I called out it became a loud banging noise. When I realized it was coming from the cellar door beneath me I moved quickly to rip it open. My eyes went wide at the sight inside: there were at least fifteen people crammed in the tiny cellar, but the one that caught my eye immediately was the red hooded sister. Altair helped me get them all out and we worked to get the chains off.

“Forgive me, I failed the sisterhood.”

“You are alive and The Chain is dead, that is all that matters.” I said solemnly, freeing her. “Can you walk? Good. Return to Damascus at once and tell the Hakeema everything. Be sure to find a mualesh as well, perhaps in this city before you leave. Will you be alright?”

She nodded and helped some of the other people leave. I made sure they all had someplace to go before letting any of them out. When the last of them was gone the reality of what had just happened sank down on me like a pile of bricks. I looked back at Altair, nodding a thanks to him before walking away from my past for good. No longer could the man haunt me or plague my dreams. He was gone. It was over.

Yet it didn’t feel that way at all.

The swelling ache within me refused to subside even as I trekked back to Sabeen’s. Even after I climbed up three storeys to the balcony that was temporarily mine, the pain remained. It clawed at my insides and took control of my body in ways I’d never experienced. The Levantine didn’t leave my side even as I stripped away my weapons, tossing them onto the ground and gently letting the snake onto the bed. Pulling off my outer robe, I let it sink to the floor as I fumbled for a mug of ale.

It and its followers were finished in an instant, and despite the assassin’s lingering gaze I walked back out to the balcony. I braced myself on the railing, hanging my head and regulating my unsteady breathing. My eyes began to water even as he joined me.

“Do you think the Hakeema knew who he was?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. How’s patricide for the ultimate test of faith?” I said spitefully, staring up at the sky in an attempt to dry my eyes. It didn’t work in the slightest. He lay a hand on my shoulder as I slowly eroded. “I hated him all my life and wanted nothing more than him dead…And yet still I wished for him to be remorseful. I could not even earn the love of a slave trader. Even in death I can’t be free of him.”

Announcing the realization out loud forced a fit of tears out that I didn’t even bother to stop. Of course I didn’t want him to see me so weak, so vulnerable, but if not my halif then who? He had just witnessed perhaps the most pivotal point in my life and still was by my side. Even as the sobs rang out he turned me and gently pulled me into an embrace, keeping me as steady as possible as my whole body shook. I held onto him tightly

“Our creed does not command us to be free. It commands us to be wise.” He said quietly, voice resonating through my chest. The words calmed me and reduced the sobs to mere tears. When he pulled away his hands cupped my face, thumbs reaching across to dry the tear tracks. It was uncharacteristically close and a side of him I never would have imagined to exist. “Neither of our fathers was smart enough to see the greatness that had been gifted to them.”

His lips curled into a tiny smirk before he released me, taking a look out at the city before retreating into the room. I lingered a few minutes longer until I was certain my emotions were back under my control. Only then did I close the glass doors and prepare to take off my boots. By then Altair had already made himself (relatively) comfortable on the small day bed against the opposite wall, leaving the large bed for me. I had half the mind to tell him to join me so we both slept well but I thought better of it. The snake was coiled around the lit candle, soaking up the heat, until I reached over and put it out. Soon after it found its place beside me in the bed, and I tried to erase my father’s face from my mind.


	8. Trouble In Jerusalem

It was strange how quiet the place was in the morning. All of the music and moans had been muted for the time being; replaced with nothing but small whispers and the sound of retreating footsteps. As I lay in bed I imagined the rooms would be cleaned soon to make sure the brothel was ready for the patrons who would arrive later.  
  
Altair was gone from the room but it did not surprise me. He had a difficult time staying in one place for too long—likely he was interrogating someone or on his way to kill Majd Addin. For a long while I stayed in the bed, taking comfort in the gentle breeze coming through the open doors and the sweet smell of flowers coming from the garden outside. More often than not, though, my thoughts turned to the previous night’s events.  
  
There was fresh juice and an array of food waiting for me on the dresser. A glass sat off to the side, stained with the sediments left behind from a once-full cup. It was plain to see that a portion of the food had already been eaten, and for some reason it made me happy that he had eaten. As if overnight I suddenly cared much more about his existence. I helped myself to the food and juice until I was content, and then began to fix my clothing and equip my weapons. I was wondering where the snake had gone to when there was a rushed knock on my door.  
  
“I’m sorry.” A girl said as she barged in, casting a look over her shoulder before closing the door. Her eyes were wide with panic, clothing only half on as she stumbled over her words. I had to grip her shoulders and calm her down before she said anything coherently. “There’s a m-man… He’s from the brotherhood.”  
  
“Did he hurt you?” I blurted out, instinctively reaching for my blade until she shook her head.  
  
“N-no. We were lying in bed and he was drunk again and he started saying…oh god…He started talking about a plan but it was like he forgot I was there. Something about revenge and higher ranks. And then I heard him say y-your friend’s name.”  
  
“Altair? What did he say about him?” As soon as the question left my mouth she started to panic all over again.  
  
“He said that Altair was in for a surprise…that they were expecting him to come and that they would hang him. They’re going to hang him in front of everyone to make an example of h-him.”  
The notion of Altair hanging from a noose made a chill take hold of me. Our halif bond may have been born out of necessity and a dire situation, but especially after the previous night he had proved his worth. Secured himself deep enough into me that my heart raced at the prospect of him being hurt, let alone killed. He was worthy of my respect at the very least, and it was my turn to save his life.  
  
“Bring me to the traitor.”  
  
The girl led me to the door but remained in the hallway. I let myself in and found the assassin helping himself to another drink. He was leaning against the mantle over the burning fireplace, so taken with his drink that he didn’t notice me until I was beside him. In two blows I had him disoriented and bent over. He fumbled for a weapon but I moved quicker, kicking his feet out from under him and holding his face against the flames. He wailed in agony until I pulled him out and knocked him unconscious. I told the girl to leave him in an alley before fleeing as quickly as I could.  
  
As I got farther from the brothel, my fury began to swirl. It lingered with panic and worry, though, creating a maelstrom within me. I was moving as quickly as I dared through the crowds, knowing that if I caught the attention of any guards along the way I may very well be too late to save my Levantine. It wasn’t until the gallows came into view that I realized I wasn’t alone. People were parting before me, but not for me; for the tens of snakes that flanked me.  
  
They varied in size but hissed at any person who did not move away fast enough. I had long ago stopped questioning the strange way snakes treated me; for now I was thankful that they allowed me to move faster. The people began to mutter my name in either fear or wonder, but the attention had not spread to the crowd formed in front of the gallows. My heart rate accelerated when I caught sight of Altair. The noose was already around his neck, hands bound behind his back, and the executioner’s hand on the lever. My panic spread to the snakes as they began to swarm the crowd, striking at people and hissing until the people began to flee.  
  
When the guards caught sight of me and the creatures that followed, they hesitated for a brief moment. I drew my sword and immediately moved towards Altair in an attempt to cut him loose, but three of the men came at me. They were quick, but I was quicker. I dodged and attacked and defended and sliced until blood stained my clothes and corpses lay at my feet. With fury ruling my body I looked up to the remaining guards. They nodded to each other and as the remaining four came at me the executioner pulled the lever, sending the assassin to his death.  
  
I cried out even as they charged at me, moving as fast as I could towards my Levantine. From the corner of my eye I could see him twitching, and despite the fact that one of the guards was already bleeding out on the ground I knew there were only precious seconds until I would no longer have a halif. I wedged my blade into the neck of another guard and used all my force to topple over the other two, using them as stepping stones up to the platform. Wheeling back my sword hand, I cut the rope that Altair hanged from. He fell down to the ground below, but before I could attend to him I busied myself with executing the executioner and returning to the other guards. They were much more in sync that their deceased counterparts, wearing me down with their relentless attacks. I doubted I would have been successful if one of the snakes had not bit the ankle of one of the guards. I took the opportunity to kill the other before stabbing the throat of the snake’s prey.  
  
When all was finished I stood for a moment to catch my breath and then turned immediately to my Levantine. Crawling beneath the platform, I worked quickly to unbind his hands and slip the noose from his neck. He was still gasping for air and was frighteningly weak. I knelt beside him, lifting him up and supporting him as best I could.  
  
“Altair, can you hear me?” I said quickly, trying to ignore the panic still infecting me. He was breathing, albeit shakily, which meant he was alive. He was alive, not dead. But even alive, he was not responding. I placed my hand on the side of his face and forced him to look at me. “ _Breathe_. Slowly. You _will not_ die. Do you hear me?”  
  
He coughed a few times, breaths finally beginning to slow, but he remained silent. His head lolled to the side so I forced it back towards me, looking him straight in the eye. The panic forced out words in shaky breaths of my own that betrayed my attempted façade of control.  
  
“Promise me you won’t die. _Promise me._ ”  
  
After a moment he closed his eyes, hand reaching up to make contact with mine as he nodded. The sound of yelling stole away my attention as a fresh wave of guards approached the bloodbath I’d left. I checked Altair’s sleeve, astounded at the fact that he still had his hidden blade. I told him we had company and helped him up before getting him a long sword from one of the dead guards. I watched him carefully as he prepared himself for the battle as the guards circled around us. There were about six of them, the prospect wholly daunting. Altair was still recovering from nearly dying and I was still tired from killing eight men.  
  
Of course, the guards did not care if we were tired or not. Did not think to offer a break and resume the fighting after we’d had a breather and maybe some water. They only cared about the fact that eight of their comrades had been killed, a prisoner was set free, and if they did not kill us they would be punished by Majd Addin himself.  
  
There were no battle cries or slurs or insults. No warnings or jokes or taunts. They only swarmed us, blades rising with every intent to kill. Metal clanged against metal and occasionally slid against flesh; the latter producing only small grunts from the victims. I managed to kill one with his ally’s blade, but the last two were easily twice my weight in muscle alone and used every ounce to overpower me. It felt like trying to fight off a brick wall, only there were two of them. Closing in on me. It took every last part of me to run one of them through with my blade, but as soon as I pulled it out the other guard brought his own blade down.  
  
It sent my sword flying out of my hand, and I had to move fast to dodge his follow-up attack. In a blur my dagger was out and sinking into his skull, producing a stead drip of his blood into the dirt. Altair was a few feet away still battling with two enormous guards. They looked like golems compared to my Levantine, swinging their big swords around and nearly killing him with every move. One moved at him while his back was turned, but it wasn’t until I was two strides away that I remembered my sword was on the other side of the yard. I had no choice but to put my hands up against the guard’s attack, holding back the blade with my bare palms to keep it from killing Altair.  
  
The blade dug deep into my hands and forced out a cry of pain. Altair put a hand around my middle, pulling me away from the attack while simultaneously putting his sword through the man’s head. I stood there staring at my hands, barely hearing his urgent claim for us to flee. He grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled, leading me through the streets of Jerusalem while the bells rang out. The guards would be looking for us everywhere and we were far too bloodstained to miss.  
  
Several times we narrowly missed being spotted, until at last Altair turned down a back alley. He stepped onto a small platform and grabbed hold of the long rope that came down from the rooftop. No time was wasted as he held me tightly against his body and kicked a lever beside us. It sent the rope flying up, and us along with it. We stumbled onto the roof, but as he continued to lead me the pain in my hands began to make itself known. He finally stopped but I froze at the door of our location; or rather, lack thereof. We were at the entrance to the Jerusalem assassin’s bureau, and as he let himself down I hovered with panic.  
  
“I c-can’t…” I said feebly, hands dripping scarlet drops as I held them before me. “My hands…”  
  
He held out his arms towards me, and I was brought back to the memory of the same position in Damascus. _He means for me to jump. He means for me to trust him._ And despite my fear of it, I did trust him. That much I knew. So I took a shaky breath and stepped forward, suspending myself in the air for a few moments before thudding against his body. He held me steadily against him, gently lowering me to the ground as if I was made of glass. He kept me against him for a moment, looking at me as the both of us caught our breath. The pain came back and I winced as my hands began to shake.  
  
After that he released me quickly, taking a step back and gingerly inspecting my hands. There was shuffling and a figure appeared in the doorway. He wore the robes of a rafiq but had a much sterner face than his Damascus counterpart. As if he has seen terrors in his day, despite his age. It took me a moment to notice that he had lost part of his left arm. He didn’t seem surprised by my being there; only focused on the bloody hands and bloody clothes.  
  
“Malik—help her. Please.” Altair’s voice was rough and raspy. The rafiq didn’t hesitate to nod towards the fountain and tell me to rinse my hands of the blood. I did as I was told, clenching my teeth as I cleaned up as best as I could. Altair did not leave my side, and when I was finished he led me to the main chambers where Malik had an array of things set out on the table.  
  
“I cannot do it myself, Altair.” He announced, pushing the items towards us as we sat down. “I will instruct you on what to do.”  
  
“Is there something to numb the pain?” Altair asked immediately as I lay my hands on the table. Blood was starting to seep out again but the tremors remained. As Altair pulled down his hood Malik went to his stores, searching for a moment before handing me a bottle and instructing me to take one sip. He warned it would take a bit to work, and that it would be better to start repairing me right away.  
  
“From what I hear Addin still lives.” Malik said as Altair began to dab a liquid concoction over my hands.  
  
“He knew I was coming.” The assassin made a habit of looking up at me now and again as if making sure I could handle the pain. “There must be an informant who was watching me.”  
  
“No.” I winced as they both looked over at me. Malik muttered another instruction before I forced the words out. “It was one of your brothers. He planned to betray you and have you killed.”  
  
They were quiet for a while before I realized they were waiting for the rest of the story. While Altair began to stitch up my hands, I relayed the tale up until the point that I left the brothel, specifically pointing out that with the amount of burns I left on his face he wouldn’t be hard to recognize. The feeling of the needle moving in and out of my skin had been reduced to a dull pain, and yet the assassin still handled me with fragility. It seemed strange that his metaphorically blood stained hands treated my literally blood stained hands as if they were flowers which would wilt at the slightest bit of roughness. His hands that were bred for breaking bones and wielding swords and choking throats and taking life.  
  
“It will be some time before you can wield a blade again.” Malik announced after watching me try to flex my hands. I could barely close them, let alone strongly grip a weapon. The notion made me scared all over again for a multitude of reasons. How could I defend myself if I couldn’t use a sword? What good would I be as an assassin who could not wield a blade? But by far my biggest worry was explaining it to the Hakeema. I had, after all, gotten hurt while helping Altair. Though, I doubted any sisters were around to witness it…Could I lie to them? Would I be able to bring myself to try and deceive them?  
  
“More than anything you should rest.” The rafiq counselled as he got to his feet. He began to put away most of the items on the table as Altair spread something on my palms and wrapped them in bandages. “Your body needs time to heal itself. Drink this, it will help.”  
  
I held the cup with my wrists and did as I was told, ignoring the bitterness of the liquid and finishing all of it. Altair led me to the entrance chambers after that and motioned for me to sit down amongst the pillows. I would have insisted otherwise but I was hit with a dizzy spell that all but forced me off my feet. He crouched in front of me as I lay my head back against the stone wall, trying to recuperate.  
  
“What you drank will help you sleep.” He said quietly, anticipating every ounce of protest that I threw forth. All he could do was insist that I needed it until I began to weaken with sleep. He took my hands in his and brought my fingers to his lips. It was a gesture that was wholly unprecedented and would have made me react more if I wasn’t slipping from consciousness. “If you had not been here, I would have died today. Thank you.”  
  
He got to his feet as I began to sway, announcing that he had to kill Majd Addin while the city was still in a panic. An attack would not be expected so soon after what happened. He released my hands but at the last moment I caught his, trying to remember the words I meant to say as my lids fluttered. The part of me controlling speech seemed to ignore that he had intentionally drugged me so I couldn’t follow after him, and instead said something possibly even worse. A quiet thought that should have stayed with me.  
  
“You…made a promise.” The words came out in a whisper even as I slowly slumped down onto the collection of pillows. He covered my hand with his, crouching in front of me again and draping a blanket over me. My eyes closed as he pulled his hood back on.  
  
“I intend to keep it.”  
  
After that the only sound was the fountain beside me, and even that began to fade until sleep overtook me.  
  


* * *

  
There was a sweet smell in the air when I woke, and a peacefulness to the place I lay in. Only the fountain made noise, a gentle sound to match the gentle breeze coming in through the lattice roof. I stirred before remembering the state of my hands, trying again to close them but wincing in pain. It would take some getting used to. When I kicked off the blanket I found a welcome sight curled up against me. The snake began to uncoil as I sat up, gently wrapping around my arm. Its belly was swollen in one part and I couldn’t help but smile.  
  
“While you were having lunch your brothers and sisters came to help me save my friend.” I teased despite the fact I sincerely doubted it understood me. Not my words at least; if anything it understood my emotions and reacted to them. It took me a moment to realise that we were being watched. Malik stood at the archway, eyeing the snake in my grasp.  
  
“Altair tells me you command the snake as well as you command a blade.” He said calmly, walking over to me and sitting on a cushion. He held out a glass to me and watched my hesitation. “It’s only tea.”  
  
“I do not command the snake. Nor do I understand why it has stayed with me all these years. It is true that it…understands me somehow. Helps me kill. But that is all I know.” I drank the tea slowly at first and then all at once. It wasn’t until he retrieved the empty glass from me with his one good arm that I was struck with a realization. Something Rami had said in an attempt to dissuade me from making Altair my halif.  
  
_They sought some treasure in Solomon’s Temple and after abandoning all the tenets of their creed he left one brother dead and another without an arm._  
  
“Malik…” I looked from his missing arm to him, hesitating before finally speaking. “Was that Altair’s doing?”  
  
“Yes.” He nodded. “But not the Altair you knew. The one responsible for this was arrogant, selfish, and unworthy of being called a brother. He received far too much praise and became a symbol of worship within the brotherhood—it poisoned him. But he has changed his ways, and although I can never completely forgive him for the death of my brother, I can accept his decision to change.”  
  
As he got to his feet bells began to toll in the distance. We looked at one another, knowing it could only mean one thing. The sun had already begun to set, and with any luck Altair would be back before it was gone completely. Malik disappeared with the cups and returned with some food, sitting across from me and giving me tips on how to adjust to the crippled things at the ends of my arms.  
  
“Thank you for helping me.” I said after a moment. “I understand it takes a lot to trust one of the Aeterna.”  
  
“Altair may have been selfish, but he was never a fool. He has told me much of you and your abilities—and as you have illustrated, you have a knack for keeping him alive. So I think it is I who must thank you. He is one of our best assassins and Al-Mualim has him on what has been described as the most important mission in years.”  
  
The assassin thudded onto the ground across from us, chest heaving from a recent escape. Malik got to his feet and they met in the middle, Altair taking a bloodstained feather from his pocket and handing it to the rafiq. Malik nodded and disappeared into the main chambers. Altair caught his breath before crossing over and sitting down beside me. He pulled back his hood and wiped the sweat from his brow, but I caught sight of rough red marks on his neck. I frowned, reaching out and grazing my fingers over the marks. He flinched away at the unannounced contact and I quickly retracted my hand.  
  
“I should have gotten there sooner.” I said quietly, staring at the marks until he covered them up.  
  
“You are a fool if you believe that.” He mumbled, shaking his head at me.


	9. Against All Odds

Sleep is one of the most powerful forces in the natural world. If deprived of it for long enough, it could take hold of you in a death grip. I had been training harder than I should have in an attempt to get my hands used to the feeling of a sword’s handle once more; alongside all of the extra duties I’d picked up around the Aeterna in an attempt to make up for the service I could no longer provide. It was infuriating, knowing every bit of my body was capable of killing save my hands. I felt crippled and useless and terrified at the thought, but the mualesh promised I would be healed in under a month. Already I could close my hands more than before and the scars were scabbing; all good signs.

But I still couldn’t strongly hold a blade which made me do everything other than that, and it exhausted me. Even when I heard the gentle creaking noise, sleep wrapped both arms around me and begged my consciousness to stay. I gave in and lapsed into a dream, my senses all fuzzy and my eyelids still heavy. In the dream, Altair was perched on my windowsill. He set both feet on the floor without a sound and my eyelids fluttered shut. I could barely hear him as he approached my bedside, and would have thought the dream over all-together had he not reached under the blanket and gently claimed my hand.

He unfolded my fingers and traced his thumb over the healing scars, studying them for a long time. I tried to keep my eyes open but they kept fluttering, constantly tempted by the subtle siren’s call of sleep. Absently, my hand went up and brushed against the side of his face. It met the beard that was claiming his face; a sign that he had not been home in some time. His hand went up to meet mine and he pressed his lips against my fingers before returning my arm under the blanket.

In the dream he told me to sleep and I obeyed, finally releasing and slipping back into darkness. There were other dreams, but none that I could recall. All I knew was that when morning came and sleep finally released me I felt better rested than I had in days. Kicking off the blankets, I sat on the edge of my bed for a short while before getting up and stretching. I had just begun to pull the fabric of the tunic off my body when a voice calling my name made me jump. With the nearest knife in hand I immediately spun, eyes wide at the sight of Altair.

“Why are you here?” I hissed out of fright, taking a moment to shrug back into a sense of calm and lower the weapon. He looked confused at my question, relaxing his raised hands.

“You saw me come in.” He said as more of a question than a statement. It was my turn to be confused, before I recalled my sleep-ridden haze in the middle of the night.

“I thought that was a…” I trailed off, turning away from him completely when the corner of his mouth curled up into a small smirk. “Wait outside.”

When the door closed I got myself ready for the day, pulling on the familiar clothes and belts and weapons and hood. He was leaning against the wall nearest a window when I left my room, staring out at the street below. I opened the other windows to let some light in and explained that I hadn’t been to the market so there wasn’t much food, but when I turned I noticed the table had a number of platters set up with food I definitely didn’t buy. He avoided my eye, simply helping himself and waiting for me to do the same. It was hard not to notice the fact that he had picked out some of my favourite things.

“Do your hands hurt?” He asked as we worked through the food. I shrugged before nodding once.

“A little. Only when I hold something too tightly. I should be fine again soon.”

When I was finished eating he went to the couch by the window and pulled a long box from behind it. I frowned as he carried it over and set it down beside me before returning to his orange juice. The box was ornately decorated and the latch glittered gold, the whole thing smooth as silk. I hesitated before opening it and sat in awe when I did.

Inside the velvet-lined container lay the most beautiful weapon I’d ever seen. The handle of the sword was curved in the shape of a serpent, with its twisting body and tail serving as the hilt on either side of the blade. Its eyes sparkled red with gemstones—rubies, I guessed—and the blade itself was polished so well I could see my own shocked face staring back at me. My fingertips gently brushed across the metal before tentatively pulling it out of its casing.

“You lost your sword in Jerusalem.” He said simply after ripping himself half of a pita. I looked over at him with wide eyes.

“Altair…” The blade balanced perfectly on my finger. It was sturdy but cut through the air like death. The pressure of holding it too tightly made my hand sting and threatened to re-open the wound so I set it back in its box. “You didn’t have to. This…This would not come cheaply.”

“The blacksmith in Masyaf owed me a debt.” For the briefest of moments he looked over at me. “He assured me the blade will not fail you. It is made of the strongest metal.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to hug him, but that wasn’t half as intimate a gesture as what he’d just given me. He knew the significance of a sword to people like us; an assassin’s weapon was an extension of themselves. It wasn’t just a pretty thing or a brutal blade; it was a symbol of me. It nearly made me weep. The sound of him chewing was the only noise, and I noticed that even with his weapon’s belt removed and sitting by the door he kept his face half covered by white fabric. Getting to my feet, I walked up to him and tugged the hood off. He recoiled from the gesture out of reflex.

“You need not hide yourself in my presence.”

With that I moved to walk away but he grabbed my hand before I could stray far. He held it for a moment, eyes glued to my scars now that he had real light to see by, before he pulled a small vial from his robe and closed my fingers around it. I opened it and smelled the mixture; it had an overwhelming scent that stung my eyes. I looked down at him, waiting for an explanation. He avoided my eye—perhaps he felt too exposed without his hood.

“You have your mualesh.” He reasoned. “And I have mine.”

For a moment I hovered but quickly pushed on to replace my worn out and borrowed blade with the new one. While I was out of sight I decided to try the foreign medicine as well; though he would no doubt be able to smell it even after I wrapped my hands with cloth. It smelled strongly of mint and might have been pleasant had it not been so concentrated. Pulling all my hair to one side I returned to him and claimed a handful of almonds from the bowl on the table.

“Whose life have you come to claim?” I asked casually as he cut off a slice from an apple. His eyes flickered up to me before he took a bite, shaking his head.

“No one.” The knife sliced through the fruit and dislodged another piece. “After Jerusalem there was one in Acre. I’m to return to Masyaf. I…I would have come sooner, but Al-Mualim believed this was a better course.”

“I would have done the same.” I offered in a feeble attempt at consolation. He knew I hadn’t died in Jerusalem, there was no rush to return to me. And yet, it still struck something within me to know as much. I paused to look at him—to really look at him—and realized how close I felt to this stoic hunter from the Forbidden City. Perhaps because he was not so much my friend as he was my mirror. We were alike in many ways…and as much as all of it terrified it I found some comfort in it as well.

When he noticed I turned away, getting to my feet and wandering to a shelf where I retrieved the shisha pipe gifted to me by Safiyya so many years ago. The tobacco was stored in a small clay pot attached to it, and I worked to set up the pipe to share. When the smoke began to build in the chamber I took in a deep breath and let a circle escape my lungs. It floated up to the ceiling and dissipated as the smell took over my senses. Passing it to Altair, we listened to the sound of a man on the streets playing music.

“Altair…” He looked over at me as the smoke cascaded from his nostrils. I waited until my lips had reclaimed the pipe to speak. “I’m… I’m glad you’re my halif.”

I allowed a small smile to take over my features and watched as he took in a breath to speak, but two knocks called our attention. They had come from the small door to the rooftop and as I ascended the ladder I recalled what my obligations for the day had originally been before the surprise visit. The door opened and flooded the space with sunlight as a shakiha offered a quiet greeting.

“Saffiya said to bring the food here when we were finished.” The small girl announced. There were two others with her, all of them no older than thirteen.

“Did you have any trouble in the district?” By the opening there sat three flour sacks bulging with stolen food. I rifled through the nearest one as a second girl explained that they were in and out without being seen or heard. “Thank you. I’ll be sure these are delivered, you should report back to the hakeema.”

They bowed slightly before disappearing altogether. I heaved the first bag onto the ladder, thanking Altair as he came over to help. Ignoring the stinging in my hands, I collected the other bags and brought them over to the table to sort through. There were three groups, one for each bag; bread, meat, and crops. I had already started on the first bag before I realized Altair had no idea what was going on.

“Far too many children in this city go hungry. Far too many nobles in this city have more than they need.” I explained before asking him to find me some cloths to individually wrap the different meats in. “I think there are some sweets on the top shelf.”

When everything was ready I tied off the bags and prepared myself to leave. After locking the exit to the roof I turned to find all three bags in Altair’s grasp and him waiting by the door. I tried to argue that I could carry at least one but the Levantine was very good at pretending I hadn’t spoken. With that we entered the main streets of Damascus and made our way to the secluded area in the poor district where the children had learned to wait.

There were always two or three older ones—twelve at most—that accompanied the small group. They kept order and the younger ones obeyed them. Where they fled to, I didn’t know; but the familiar faces reassured me that at least some of them were making it. Before turning the corner to enter the abandoned yard I did a sweep of the area to be sure no guards were tailing us. It wouldn’t have been the first time that a food raid led to a tracking attempt. When I was certain we were alone I led the assassin down the alleyway and into the old courtyard. It was shrouded from the sun by the city’s outer wall and from onlookers by overgrown vines that had claimed the derelict wooden beams that were once a person’s ceiling.

“There are more of you this time.” I said with a warm smile as the children filtered into the yard. Altair set the bags down on the ground as I got onto my knees. The older ones held the group back at the sight of the white hood, but I promised there was no threat. “In fact, I think he has something sweet for you all.”

Altair took that as a cue to reveal the treats to the little ones. They were hesitant at first but when he crouched down one of the girls was brave enough to claim the first piece. After that the rest lined up, some saying quiet thank yous and others retreating to their parent-figures. There was one boy, though, who hovered around for seconds and hoisted himself up onto the assassin’s knee to enjoy the sweet. I couldn’t help but watch as the master killer who had shed the blood of a thousand men held the child steady.

“The bread is mostly half-loaves but the sisters brought more to make up for it.” I explained to the oldest girl. “Some of the meat is salted but the rest will spoil if you do not store it correctly. Do you remember what the others taught you?”

“Yes.” She managed, eyes scanning the bags. In her mind she was making an inventory; deciding how to divide it and how long it would last before she needed to find another source of food. She spoke quietly to the others and they gathered the bags. Immediately they began to disappear back into the streets, but the girl lingered. She wrapped her arms around me and withheld a sob before straightening up. “I know the risk you take in bringing us this. I—I’m smart enough to know where it comes from. We would die without it, though. Sometimes they die anyways. I—Thank you. Both of you.”

The girl looked away after that, claiming the little boy from the Levantine’s grasp and speeding off after the others. It took me a moment to regain my composure, but by the time I got to my feet my body was already on high alert again in case of any guards. There was little talk on the way back to my home, but it was stopped short entirely by the sight of Yasmine waiting on my doorstep. She offered a smile that faded somewhat at the sight of Altair.

“Forgive me, I did not know you were busy.” She began to retreat down the stairs but I caught her arm and promised her it was no trouble. From the way her eyes shifted I could tell there was something she wished to discuss, so I led her inside. She kept looking over at the Levantine before finally admitting aloud, “This may not be a conversation you wish for him to hear, Ariyah.”

“We’ve been over this, Yasmine.” I said with a patient smile. Her tone made me nervous. “Is it the Hakeema? Are they taking some action against me?”

“No, of course not. This is…well it is a personal matter. About Rami.” She explained, analyzing my every move. I understood then why she was so anxious. I understood why she had come. “I…I know that you were once…But you told me that he no longer mattered to you in that way and…”

“Yasmine, there is nothing to be afraid of.” I promised, taking her hand in mine and offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine.”

“Are you certain? Please do not hold back if you feel otherwise.” She pleaded.

“For all your skills in sneaking you are not very good at hiding your heart, I’m afraid. At least, not with me.” This at least made her laugh, but we were both trying to ignore the fact that Altair was bearing witness to this entire exchange. “You must remember, what happened was long ago and ended. I am happy for you, Yasmine. For the both of you.”

“Thank you, habibty.” She kissed my cheeks and relaxed completely. “His mother is making a feast tonight in celebration of Abdul returning from the South and she asked for you to be there. You can come too, Levantine.”

Her tone was in jest and I accepted, promising to be there. She promised there was nothing I needed to bring and wrapped her arms around me before announcing there were duties awaiting her at the Aeterna. I walked her to the door and she bid us both goodbye, grinning even as she descended the steps. I watched the red robe billow after her and admired the jump in her step as she disappeared down the street.

The door closed behind her and enveloped us in silence. His gaze lingered on me, eyes burning with the question his lips refused to breathe. I indulged in the quiet for a few brief moments before shooting him a look.

“Ask.” I said finally, returning to the shisha pipe and inhaling. He stayed silent while searching for the words.

“I can’t imagine that it’s easy to see a friend with one you love.” At last it came to the surface. There was a twist in my stomach as the words left his mouth, an anxiety that made me squirm. I turned from him, moving to stand at the open window to spare my eyes the sight of him.

“There was a time when I imagined us marrying. Having children, even. I loved him once. When I was young. When I was naïve…but no longer.” It felt strange to say the thoughts aloud when they had only ever existed in my head. “I was fortunate in that he was able to remain my friend.”

“What happened?” His voice was low and calm and it chiseled away at all of my reflexive defenses.

“The more time we spent together, the more I realized how…unfit I was for him. For all his bravery, for all of his strength and courage, the deepest parts of him would always reject violence and bloodshed.” Turning from the window with crossed arms, I faced my Levantine and kept my eyes dry despite the burning sensation. “My entire identity is based on bloodshed. Violence is what binds my spirit. To reject those things is to reject my existence. Once I understood that, I could never see him the same way. He will always be on the other side of a doorway he pretends does not exist.”  
“And what about Yasmine?”

“I can only pray she stays ignorant to this truth. I can only pray she finds happiness where I could not.” With a sigh I looked away and tried to ignore the feel of his eyes lingering on my back. “The path we walk is dark, Altair. We wade through a sea of blood, nearly drowning in its constant high tide. How can I ever ask another to walk the path alongside me? How can I condemn another to the burdens we carry?”

“You need only search for one already wise to the ways of the sea.” It was his turn to move away when I looked back at him. I tried to decipher his meaning, because there was one very clearly up to his neck in blood and he sat before me. The words sparked something within that I tried to bury. What was it? What was this feeling eating away at me? Perhaps it was a feeling of trust. There had never been anyone before that I could talk to about anything.

Of course Yasmine was there for most of it, but there were things I couldn’t bring to her. Things I couldn’t bring to Rami…but I could lay all my troubles at Altair’s feet and no longer fear retribution. Was this what love was? Trusting someone completely? Perhaps that was the nature of the halif bond. Its own kind of love. I shook my head, pushing away all of the thoughts. It was exhausting trying to decipher everything; it was easy just to act.

“Will you join us?” The shutters of the window pulled closed and I latched them shut. “The food will be much better there than it is here.”

He nodded but remained seated when I explained I would need a few moments. The bedroom door closed behind me as I tried to make myself look like less of an assassin and more of a normal citizen of Damascus. The dress I picked out was made of light fabric, soft against my skin. It had been dyed a deep blue and was embroidered with a simple silver design around the neckline and wrists. I pulled half of my hair back and kept the snake necklace on, but changed my simple earrings for bright jeweled ones. To my thigh, I strapped the dagger bestowed upon me by the Aeterna. With a fresh application of kohl around my eyes I looked half-presentable. I could pass as an innocent.

When I returned to him I considered asking him to wear something less…foreign. But before the words could leave my mouth, I recalled how he used his hood as a shield from the world and that I had been among the few privileged enough to see him without his customary assassin’s robes. The weapons may have been a bit much for walking the streets but considering I only carried a knife, having him fully armed put me more at ease. Not to mention, of course, that Rami and Yasmine knew very well that Altair was an assassin; the others would not care to ask. They trusted our judgement.

The sun was beginning to disappear behind the western city wall as I lead my Levantine through the streets of Damascus. Now and again I would catch his gaze on me from the corner of my eye, but never let it linger too long. I felt almost naked without any proper weapons or a red hood to hide beneath. Every man that walked too close made me instinctively reach for the hilt of a sword that was not there. Altair moved to my other side so I walked between him and the wall. Could he have sensed my itching worry? If so he said nothing—neither of us did until we drew close to Rami’s home.

“This place is familiar.” He said as a group of drunken guards passed us. When their eyes lingered too long on the white hood I put my arm through his to make him appear more domestic.

“It should be.” I hesitated when he looked down at my hand on his arm, moving back to the distance we maintained before. “This is where I snapped at you the day you interrupted my interrogation. I was ready to let the snake make a meal of you.”

He broke a smile at that and if I didn’t know any better I could have sworn he’d laughed. I was beginning to accept that I would never make the statue move. We finally made it to the familiar door and I raised my knuckles to it twice. It was Abdul who came to the door, Rami’s brother of fifteen years. He grinned wide and kissed my cheeks before offering a hand to Altair.

“How did the South treat you, Abdul?” I ruffed up his hair as we walked down the hallway. We emerged in the living are where nearly everyone was sitting. He explained while I greeted everyone and introduced Altair.

“It was well worth it, al-hamdulilah. The first few weeks were hard—even Baba thought we would sell more in Damas—but with Allah’s blessing we were soon selling out every before Asr.”

“I’m going to see if Nadia needs any help.” I moved towards the kitchen before realizing I was leaving the assassin alone with people he barely knew. He watched me as I bit back a smile, reaching out and tugging on his sleeve for him to follow. Nadia was going back and forth between the fire and a bowl she had on the counter but paused briefly to greet me. Yasmine came in through the back door with Rami in tow, their hands intertwined. He immediately dropped her hand at the sight of me, but when she announced that nothing was a secret any longer he relaxed.

“Habibi, go take this to the table. Yasmine, the bread. Ariyah, I need your hands for the dolma.” Nadia instructed while flittering around the kitchen. Rami asked Altair to grab a few of the other bowls and carry them out. I immediately got to work filling the vine leaves with the rice mixture and wrapping them tightly. Nadia kissed the top of my head, taking the pot off the fire before joining me. “I am glad you came.”

With a smile I promised her that I always would, and then carried the plate of vine leaves out to the table. She followed behind me with the last of the food (which was enough to feed an army) and we all took our seats on the small cushions. It was a tight fit with everyone but we managed. I took my place between Altair and Abdul, teasing the boy who would forever remain thirteen in my mind. What I loved most about this place was that no one ever asked how a kill went or if I was leaving for another target soon. Here, I was average.

“Did those hurt?” Abdul asked as Altair rolled up his sleeves and revealed the intricate ink. The Levantine hesitated before realizing he was being addressed, but managed a small shake of his head. I raised my eyebrow at him, knowing that the small tattoo I had on my back had hurt.

“He’s got them all over his torso.” I chimed in, musing at the wide-eyed look Abdul gave. “He just doesn’t feel pain.”

“Eat, before it goes cold.” Nadia insisted. Everyone said a collective bismillah and started on their food of choice. I passed Altair a pita before reaching for some spicy eggplant. Everyone dissolved into other conversations as the food began to disappear and I listened in, admiring the feeling of normalcy as best I could. We ate and ate and ate, occasionally talking about the same thing but mostly having discussions across the table. Their father, Mohcine, enjoyed telling us all about their exploits in the south. About their different ways and the strange people who visited them again and again. When the meal had finished and the after-talk dwindled Nadia claimed Abdul and Rami to help with the tea and cakes and sweets.

As the tea was being poured a quiet wail began to sound through the halls. Nadia rushed to finish and attend to the baby but I promised I could take care of it. Tracing the familiar steps through the home I found myself at Asra’s bedside. Her cry was quiet but dwindled as I took her into my arms. I cradled her and patted her back until the whimpers ceased. It always amazed me the way babies so naturally curled against people. With a steady grip I carried her back and sat down, rocking gently from side to side to keep her placated. Her big eyes were focused on Altair and she reached up, grabbing a fistful of his robe and yanking down the hood. We all laughed—even the assassin sported a small smile—and I offered her to him. He cast a hesitant glance at Nadia who nodded fervently.

“Hold her like this.” I moved his arms into position before passing the child over. He held her gingerly and looked to me for approval. The little hands reached up and grabbed hold of the leather straps of his weapons belt. I couldn’t help but grin, nearly leaning on his shoulder as I watched the baby girl and made funny faces at her.

“How long have they been married?” Abdul asked Nadia in a small voice. Altair looked up at me and I immediately shifted away, pouring myself tea to busy my hands.

“They aren’t, Baba.” Rami explained quickly. Asra’s eyes began to flutter as she curled close to the assassin. Seeing him like that, it was hard to imagine his hands could ever be used to kill. In this light, in this home, they could have only been made to cradle life.

“She always cries when I try and put her to sleep.” Abdul grumbled. It dissolved the atmosphere back into a relaxed one as Rami went around to light the lamps. Nadia asked me to try and get Asra back to bed so I brought the Levantine to the other side of the house. He gently passed the sleepy baby off to me and I cradled her, singing a gentle lullaby while swaying from side to side. By the time the song finished she was sound asleep so I lay her down in the crib. The light outside was nearly gone for the night.

“We should probably go.” I announced while pulling the blanket up over the baby. Laying a kiss on her head I turned back to the white hood. His bare arms were crossed over his chest, the fading light of the room casting a glow into his eyes as he stared at the baby. “What is it?”

“You’re good with her.”

“So are you.” I countered before leaving the room. We said our goodbyes and Nadia promised that we were both welcome back any time. When I was certain that there was nothing else I could help with we departed and began the short journey home. The difference of the city from day to night was something I never really got used to. It was so much quieter; nearly impossible to imagine that only hours before people had crowded the streets. It didn’t feel like the city could hold everyone. I wrapped my arms around my body against the approaching cold air of the night.

“Do you ever think we’ll have children or get married?” I asked absently. He stopped in his tracks and I looked around for a threat before realizing I had made a poor choice of words. “I—I mean people like us. In our line of work. Your father was an assassin…do you think any of us can have both worlds?”

“My father is not the best example…But there are others, in Masyaf. Who have…families.” He explained as we resumed walking. “It is not easy.”

“Nothing worth having ever is.” After that the both of us were drawn into our own minds. It wasn’t until I opened the door to my home that he drew in a breath to speak, hovering at the threshold.

“Al-Mualim is expecting me.” He announced, hand braced on the doorway. I nodded once and told him to wait while I gathered some food to send him off with. Silence enveloped us as I wrapped things that would not spoil for him. When I handed it over he managed a thanks and turned to leave, but faced me once more while pulling his hood down. “I trust Al-Mualim and my brothers…out of necessity. Because I am told to. Never have I trusted someone by choice. It is strange but…relieving.”

My face was blank as he took a step forward, raising one hand to my cheek. It sent a rush through me and set a redness in my cheeks. I wanted to reach up and hold him there but soon he was speaking again and I had to focus to hear his words.

“I’m glad you’re my halif, too.”

With that his hand slipped away and he drifted out the door, closing it behind him. Alone, in the darkness, I could feel the phantom hand still pressed against my skin, the spot tingling with a memory I would not forget. I forced the thing in my chest to stop beating so fluttery and began to light a few lamps of my own. On the couch the snake was curled, but at my approach it immediately came to accept my outstretched arm. I mused at the feeling of it wrapping around me and tried to push the rising feelings away from my mind. It is only the halif bond. Nothing more. Nothing more…


	10. The Road to Masyaf

“I’m sure it felt good, though.”  
  
Yasmine mirrored me as I leaned against the dusty wall. The sun was beating down on us, causing droplets of sweat to form on my brow. The snake dangled from my neck to bask in the warmth; now and again its tongue poking out to greet the air. We stood before the Barada River, its dark surface rippling in the height of midday traffic. Yasmine was pulling at a stray thread on my red hood while I scanned the buzzing streets of the middle district.  
  
“Killing again?”  
  
“No, you fool.” She laughed, slapping my shoulder. “Being _able_ to kill again. Bring a box to the Hakeema. Say the words.”  
  
A trio of children ran across the street squealing that the older ones that followed with some kind of insect. The feeling of the snake’s muscles contracting around me was strangely comforting, but could not put an ease to the rising anxiety in my stomach.  
  
“You’re right, it did feel good. Part of me wondered if…If they blamed Altair for what happened. For me not being of service for so long…” I let the words hang in the air for only a moment before turning to face my sister. “He shouldn’t be this late, Yasmine. He’s never this late.”  
  
“I’ll go search the other streets.” She pushed herself off the wall and pulled up the hood, wading a few feet into the crowd. “You should wait here in case he comes.”  
  
With a nod she was gone, leaving me alone with the snake to scan the crowds for Rami’s face. He was sent to bring a letter from the Imam at the masjid, about what none of us knew. More and more time passed and my worry grew—not nearly as greatly, though, as it did when the snake wound up tightly around my neck. Was it sensing my panic or exhibiting its own? It took me moment to realize that the rising noise coming from the distance was not, in fact, the midday traffic of the streets. It was a commotion.  
  
I straightened up and squinted to try and see what was happening; I wanted to believe that it was just some guards heckling someone. But the second that the bells began to ring I knew it would not be that simple. It was normal for the people to retreat to their homes or keep to the edges of the streets when the warning bells began to toll, but never had I seen them cause such an uproar. They were fleeing from raised voices, the wave of tumult inching closer to me with each passing moment. I frantically looked around for any sign of Yasmine or Rami—it would not be safe in the streets for much longer.  
  
“ _BRING HIM TO ME!_ ” a voice roared from the head of the approaching wave of guards—only, he was cloaked in a scholar’s garb. The hakeema had not called for any scholar’s head, so I prayed that he was demanding some other Levantine. I begged for this imminent doom to be directed at anyone other than Altair; I didn’t even know he was in the city. This demand spurred everyone near me into a fury as those nearer to the approaching guards cried out. Were they attacking civilians?  
  
“Ariyah!” A voice called through the angry ocean of people and I spun, searching for it, until it found me. The Levantine approached me, white robes stained with red, and jaw clenched. In the people’s rush to flee the guards we were pushed apart from each other, but he forced his way over to me and I grabbed fistfuls of his robes to keep a hold on him. His hands gripped my waist to keep me in place as a thousand questions swarmed my mind.  
  
“Who have you killed? We must leave now, they’ll be searching for you everywhere. Are you hurt?”  
  
“Listen to me.” He said with urgency. “I killed Jubair al Hakim, but he has many followers. They…They know about you, Ariyah. Word must have spread from Jerusalem but they—”  
  
“ _BRING ME THE ASSASSIN AND HIS WHORE SNAKE EATER._ ”  
  
How on earth would I explain this to the Hakeema? But then I understood that they would not stop until they found me. They would seize every red hood—every sister I was sworn to protect—and kill them one by one until I was in their grasp, along with Altair. Through the absolute chaos, though, Rami found me and tried to decipher what was going on.  
  
“We are being hunted.” I said quickly while determining all that needed saying.  
  
“We need to leave the city, now.” He said sternly. The bells and the roars and the screams were all ringing in my ears as I tried to decide if that was the best course of action. “We can make for Masyaf, there we will find refuge.”  
  
“Masyaf?” Rami looked to me for some gauge of action but I was just as shocked.  
  
“Is that the only path?”  
  
“It is the only place I can keep you safe.” His words were rushed and the guards were drawing closer. My grip tightened on him as I formulated a plan at last.  
  
“Rami, tell the sisters to make for the base and stay there. Bring word of my departure for Masyaf and tell them I will fix this. Go—and find Yasmine.”  
  
He nodded and disappeared as I released my Levantine, working to the next street over and finding a familiar brick wall—half hidden and dusty—that bore the insignia of the Aeterna. I thanked God that there was a pack within, strapped it to my shoulders and finally shared my plan with the white hood.  
  
“I am going to draw their attention. We are not far from the main gate—I need you to clear the path of any guards. When you see me coming, flee to the stables and get a horse. If I am delayed, leave without me.”  
  
Without giving him a chance to speak I pushed him away and clambered onto the rooftop of the souk. I waited until I saw him disappear through the streets towards the gates to act. Turning in the direction of the wave of guards, I gathered all of my courage and all of my voice to get their attention.  
  
“ _You seek the Snake Eater?_ ” I roared into the throng of people and successfully lured the guards. “ _I seek you as well._ ”  
  
They made for the roof from all angles and I ran; faster than I ever had. It wasn’t my life that I was running for, it was the lives of all my sisters, the lives of any innocents who might be put to the blade simply because of a guard’s temper; it was for children; it was for Altair. As I neared the gates I could see him battling the guards, blood spraying everywhere as throats were slit and limbs were severed. The sight entranced me until an arrow grazed my arm, stinging as blood crept to the surface.  
  
Behind me there were calls for my surrender; around me, calls for my death. It was as if the city itself had come alive to condemn me. When I made the final jump into a bale of hay a guard landed at my side, reaching immediately to grab my arm. My body acted quicker than my mind, though—breaking free my gifted sword and sawing the foreign limb right off. He cried out and his blood splattered across my skin, but I just kept running. When I at last reached the gates they were cleared of any obstacle—save, of course, the mob of guards chasing after me. As I ran past the pulleys my blade sawed the rope almost all the way through, leaving it connected so frail that the moment I passed beneath the wrought-iron gate it collapsed and locked the guards within. They still shot arrows, even as others bellowed for the gate to be opened, but Altair was before me in an instant and helped me onto the saddle behind him.  
  
Without hesitation I wrapped my arms around his middle and he spurred the horse into action. The animal stammered for a moment at the bustling group of people all desperate to get out of the way. They dove behind all of the merchant stalls that littered the front of the city walls, watching with wide eyes as the horse reared. It galloped fiercely up the winding road that led to the mountains, passing a group of guards who had no notion as to the fugitive assassins they had just let by. After a certain point on the path I decided to keep my eyes shut, refusing to think of the city I’d left behind and the city I was destined to reside in at the journey’s end. Instead I focused on the snake wrapped around my neck and the breathing of the assassin and the feeling of the blood drying on my skin.  
  
It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but by the time the horse finally slowed its pace we were reaching the outskirts of the village where I would always turn west to make for Jerusalem. There was no danger, for the moment, and yet I kept a firm grip on the assassin. My cheek lay against his shoulder as I took deep breaths, trying not to think about the decision I had just made; the actions I had just taken. The horse was walking slowly along the beaten down path when Altair’s hand gently pressed against mine. I straightened up at the action, wishing I could have kept his comfort a few moments longer.  
  
“We should make for the mountain pass.” I leaned away from him to look around at the town—even with our hoods pulled up there would be eyes drawn to us. The villagers would pretend we did not exist but the guards who patrolled, guards who served Robert de Sable, would seize the chance to destroy us. “The both of us are covered in blood, we’ll be spotted miles away.”  
  
“Is there another road than the main one?” He turned his head to look back at me as I took the pack off and rummaged through its contents. Within, there was a map of the kingdom that was marked with small red dots and thin red lines. I told him to take the horse over to the riverside so we could gather some water and figure out the map. He offered his hand to help me off the horse, staring at the paper as I flattened it against the leather saddle.  
  
He pointed out where we were and together we searched for the best place to make camp for the night. There was a spot in the higher reaches of the mountains that would provide a good view of the surrounding area—no one would approach without us knowing. After mapping out the path that would get us there before nightfall we found a spot of the river with a small building that would shield us from unwanted view. Here I took the opportunity to scrub the blood from my skin and inspect the injuries I’d sustained. There was nothing that warranted any attendance and, miraculously, Altair had escaped rather unscathed as well. None of the blood staining his white robes had come from him.  
  
“We should go.” I said as he filled the second canteen with water and strapped it to the horse’s back. Eyes were beginning to linger on us and I knew that guards would follow soon after. This village served as a fork road and thus was frequently under surveillance. When he nodded I heaved myself onto the saddle, offering him a hand as he got on behind me.  
  
I spurred the horse back onto the road and set out for our path as the white hood absently lay his hand on my waist. It comforted me far greater than I cared to admit, because although the rocks were the same in colour and the grass just as tall as on the paths I was used to, this place was foreign to me. If anything were to happen I had no exit strategy save to flee back to the very city I had to leave. But Altair had traveled many times from Masyaf to other cities in the Kingdom; I trusted him to get us safely to his homeland.  
  
There were stretches where I could push the horse a little faster, but guards patrolled often on the roads and going too fast drew unwanted attention. Perhaps it was better that way— I frequently consulted the map to be sure we were headed in the right direction. A couple of times we stopped at Altair’s wish while he removed the flags of King Richard. If the circumstances had been different I may have teased him about the absurdity of it but the receding sun was a constant reminder that we were on a time limit to get to the rest stop.  
  
“It shouldn’t be much further.” I had one hand on the reigns and one on the map when a sudden bellowing voice jolted me. The horse had gone around a bend in the path which delivered us right to an awaiting Templar soldier. He stood guard before some box a little ways ahead but came rushing towards us immediately at the sight of the Levantine robes. I spurred the horse into a gallop but the Templar spooked her and the horse reared.  
  
Without warning Altair jumped from the saddle to meet our sworn enemy in battle. I struggled to regain control of the animal as the swords clashed behind me. Templars were the most fearsome of any of my foes due mostly to the fact that they were all much taller and stronger than the average city guard. Altair was like me, in a fight he relied on skill over strength. But fighting one on one with a Templar was akin to being berated by a stone wall. Even as I steered the horse back over to the two he was being pushed back step by step.  
  
The horse was finally under my control once more so I directed its power at the Templar. He delivered a solid punch that knocked the white hood backwards against the rock face and reeled back his sword arm to administer the final blow; but the horse’s nearing footfalls stole his attention. Spurring the horse with my ankles she reared once more and dented the Templar’s armor with her hooves. The force sent him onto his back where I took full advantage; in one swift movement I drew my sword and leapt to the ground, bringing the blade down against his neck.  
  
His life ended with a series of bloody gurgles, the redness seeping out of his clean robes and soaking into the thirsty ground below. I shook the blood off the blade and sheathed it quickly before tending to Altair. When he assured me he was fine—although I guessed there would be a bruise to say otherwise in a day or so—we quickly mounted the horse once more and set off.  
  
The whole encounter had put me on edge for the rest of the journey; the slightest sound making me search around for any possible enemies. It disturbed me that events like that must have been commonplace for Altair in his journeys across the kingdom. The Templar soldiers had fewer encounters with the Aeterna and so we could more easily elude them; but imagining my Levantine in those death matches on a frequent basis made something within me ache.  
  
As the sun began the final stages of its descent we finally approached the off-road alcove atop one of the mountains. It did not stray far from the path which ruled out the possibility of having a fire, but there were no tracks nor paths that would lead travellers or scouters to our camp. The small clearing boasted a magnificent view of the surrounding area, even the small village we had been in so many hours ago. For a moment I indulged in it but turned away to help set up the small tent that was nestled into the pack made for and by the Aeterna.  
  
It was nothing more than a sheet of canvas that we propped up with a few sticks against the mountainside, but it would shelter us from any weather and the cool night air. When all was prepared and the horse tied up we finally took a moment to breathe. Although being in the mountains made me nervous, the worst part was over. We were closer to Masyaf than I had planned we would be and the night was not likely to greet us with any challenges. In the pack were a few wrapped pieces of dried out fruit that we ate to satisfy our grumbling stomachs. The last of the daylight filtered away as I battled with the thoughts in my head.  
  
“Are you certain that I will be allowed to enter your city?” I knelt before him as he adjusted the straps of his weapons belt. He seemed to struggle with an answer.  
  
“Al-Mualim will not force you out.” He decided after a moment. “Not after what you have done for the brotherhood.”  
  
“What I have done for _you_.” I corrected. “Do not misunderstand me, Altair; I trust you with my life. But it is _you_ I trust and _you_ that I aid. I have done nothing for the brotherhood.”  
  
“To help one is to help all.” He asserted as I took the dagger from my side to admire it. “Masyaf is the only place I could think of where your safety would be guaranteed…Though I should never have brought this upon you.”  
  
“The city guards have known about me for some time now.” I looked up at him and offered a small smirk. “I am surprised it took them this long to form an official manhunt for me.”  
  
“Ariyah.” He said seriously, scraping some of the dried blood from his clothing. “You should have left me in Jerusalem.”  
  
“What, and lose my only halif?” I challenged with a raised eyebrow. “The Aeterna doesn’t just hand them out. And I doubt another Levantine isn’t going to get himself impaled over some misplaced sense of morality.”  
  
Leaving him with the words, I retreated into the tent and chose my side for the night. It would be a fitful sleep likely interrupted by the slightest sound in the night, but I needed to try nonetheless. The tent was truly only meant to be comfortable for one person, but we managed to stretch it enough that we both had a decent amount of space between us even when he crawled in beside me. A series of shuffling and blanket shifting was the music of two fugitive assassins preparing for a sleep in the wild. Crickets sang their songs somewhere in the distance, matching almost perfectly with the Levantine’s breathing. I focused on these sounds to lull me into the realm of sleep.  
  
The sleep would come and go, but eventually it got a solid hold on me and held me under. There were flashes of dream sequences I could not recall, and one that I could. First came the heat of a thousand blazing infernos, and then the bright orange light that accompanied it. A familiar building came into view with walls and floors I’d passed a hundred times over. Blurs moved past me now and again until one of them crashed into me; this act seemed to solidify the rest of the scenery. The sound came at me like a rushing river, all the crackling of flames and clashing of swords and _screaming_ , everywhere _screaming_.  
  
The blurs were people—sisters and guards alike—and they moved around me as I looked down at the body at my feet. It was Yasmine, her neck covered in red where the blade had fallen. Only, the blade was in my hand. Her eyes looked up at mine filled with accusation and despair. As if to say _you did this_. As if to say _you brought this upon us all_. My heart hammered inside my chest as I fell to the ground, tears forcing their way out. With a sudden determination I got to my feet and found the nearest guard, launching my sword at his head. All he did was turn and grin at me, admiring the way the sword kept away from him no matter how hard I pushed. I tried over and over again but there was some force that held the blade back from him.  
  
Hands grabbed hold of me from behind that were stronger than iron; but as I turned and struggled I saw the faces belonged to my dead sister, all butchered and bloody. _You will burn with us_ , they promised over and over again. With impossible strength they dragged me past the victorious guards and the bodies of the Hakeema all propped up on spikes and right to the root of the flames. They reached out to greet me with excruciating heat, and neither they nor the bodies that pushed me forward cared for my screams. They carried me right into the middle of it and stood silently as I burned, complete agony forcing twisted sounds from my throat.  
  
“ _Ariyah._ ”  
  
I shot up in the tent with a racing heart and heaving lungs. Sweat was rolling down my face—or were they tears?—as I looked over at the assassin. He was sitting up himself, but unlike me it was because of reality. A congregation of snakes stood between us, my cobra among them, and all ready to strike out at the Levantine.  
  
“Enough!” I hissed, swatting at them all. They relaxed immediately and turned from him to slither off under the edges of the canvas. The cobra remained, though, and I gathered it into my hands. “Not him. _Never_ him.”  
  
It curled around my forearm as I mumbled an apology to the white hood and crawled out of the tent. Outside it was easier to breath, easier to remind myself that it had only been a dream. A very bad dream. It surprised me to see that I had slept through most of the night—albeit in a fitful sleep—and the sight of the first rays of sunlight creeping into the valley below put some part of me at ease. I wandered over to the edge of the cliff we had claimed and sat near the edge. The snake made its way up my arm and settled comfortably around my neck. I stroked its side while taking control of my breathing on breath at a time.  
  
Not long after the assassin claimed the spot by my side and we both looked out at the landscape before us. The mountains rolled, as did the fields of grass, and from so high up even the guard towers looked like small toys. There was a calmness to the world at this time that I envied; one I wished I could bottle up and ingest when necessary. Nature was patient and fiercely strong and magnificent in ways I could never hope to mirror.  
  
“It’s hard to imagine any badness in the world when you see it this way.” A breeze came from the north that sent a chill through my bones as I wiped at the sweat and tears. “Do you ever wonder what would have become of us, had this not been our path? Had we not been assassins?”  
  
“I wonder, but I cannot imagine.” He admitted. “There are many things I question about what Al-Mualim says…We seek to promote peace but commit murder. We seek to open the minds of man, but require obedience to rules. We seek to reveal the danger of blind faith, yet we practice it ourselves.”  
  
“And yet we remain loyal.” It was almost a relief to have this out in the open, these thoughts that had plagued me before but were too taboo to mention. “At its core the cause is a just one, and I think that is what I hold on to.”  
  
“There are changes I would make, if I could. But it is not my place to question, it is my place to kill.”  
We lapsed into silence after that, each no doubt wrapped up in these thoughts. It was a dangerous line we were on the verge of crossing, but I would not have dared speak these troubles with anyone else. I tried to imagine myself living a normal life…I would be someone’s wife and have children and cook meals and tend to the house. It did not seem to be a life I could manage. The fear from the dream still lingered within me though, and I reached out to take the assassin’s hand. He did not question me, nor did he shy away; he only locked our fingers together.  
  
“I am scared, Altair. For the first time in so long. I am scared I made the wrong decision, that I deserted my sisters.”  
  
I trusted him as much as a sister of the Aeterna; but that wasn’t what frightened me. What scared me was that some part of me trusted him _more_ than most of them. Trust was assumed amongst the sisters of the Aeterna. The halif bond may have been born out of a moral dilemma, but he had earned my trust and in some part my dependence. He was a source of comfort and reliability that nothing else could provide.  
  
“We will find the ones that hunt you and we will kill them. You have my word.” He looked over at me and I nodded, knowing that if I believed in anything in the world it was him. He would not betray me.


	11. The Hunted

“Welcome home child, what news?” The old man had a strong voice that carried down the stairs to where I waited. Every set of eyes in the place were watching me, most at least attempting to be covert. Some of the younger guards, though, didn’t have the sense to mask their apprehension or curiosity or disgust. I wondered how many of these men had been told night-time stories about the Aeterna in which we were the monsters to be feared and hunted.  
  
“Another you have named is put to rest.” Altair informed his master. Despite his words and promises, despite the knowledge that he himself would do everything he could to help me in this place, I recognized all too easily that it was not a safe haven; it was not a refuge. This place would bring my death as easily as it would my salvation.  
  
“Then it would appear your work is nearly complete and your status restored.” Al-Mualim said with subtle pride. From what was said, Altair was his protégé. His greatest accomplishment. He had been molded and guided into the desired path and shape. Like a smith who works the metal into his weapon of choice, of necessity.  
  
“A question master, why these men?” He was more tentative in his tone than before, taking caution not to sound like a dissenter or a nonbeliever. I wondered what Al-Mualim would think if he’d heard his prized possession spilling his doubts to an Aeterna hours before. “Jubair and Sibrand?”  
  
“They pave the way for change.” Al-Mualim replied easily. “Ensure that threats both old and new have no means to succeed.”  
  
The guards at the gates of Masyaf (which seemed wholly impractical, being made entirely of wood) were my first primer for what my stay in the Forbidden City would be like. Their eyes were filled with suspicion and distrust; their bodies tense and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Even with Altair at my side, the red hood drew eyes everywhere we went and made the crowds move uneasily around us. It made me want to turn back, take my chances in the wilds and try to take on those who would give chase to me all on my own.  
  
“To weaken them is to weaken our enemy, I suppose it makes sense.”  
  
I half-heartedly dragged my fingertips along the spines of the books closest to me, but received a look from one of the monks akin to a mother silently scolding their child. I offered a look of contempt in response and withdrew my hands, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the stone pillar. The snake moved absently against my skin; a comforting sensation.  
  
“Were these men to continue their work, ours would become undone.” Al-Mualim asserted. “We lop off the arms yes, but this is a Hydra we face and it is quick to replace lost limbs.”  
  
“Then we should take off its head and be done with it.” Altair said curtly.  
  
“Soon, soon. We are close. Only one more man stands between us and our ultimate goal…but we may discuss that later. For now, there are others I would turn my attention to. Like the woman you brought with you, who stands below and listens to our every word. Come up, then, Aeterna.”  
  
All of the guards now turned to me and I took my cue, pushing off of the pillar and heading to the base of the stairs. I took my time, carefully placing each foot fall to be as quiet as possible, while admiring the sights the fortress held. Letting my fingers trail along the stone bannister I passed a number of servants who averted their eyes completely. My robes billowed around me with each step but it wasn’t until I drew close to my Levantine and my Judge that I made eye contact. I made sure to keep a respectable distance from my assassin and held my head high.  
  
“Had I not known you so well, Altair, you would be reprimanded for these actions. To bring an outsider into the fortress of Masyaf—into the home of your sworn brothers—is bad enough. But an Aeterna…”  
  
“She is here at my request and at my fault.” Altair said defensively. “I have told you of the services Ariyah has provided to the brotherhood.”  
  
“Albeit indirectly.” Al-Mualim challenged, eyes burning slowly on me. His hands looked like death, and something about his whole demeanor struck me as oddly menacing. _Perhaps this is only my judgemental vision of him, though._ “We know the stories of your kind.”  
  
“I believe the word you are looking for is myths, _Al-Mualim._ ” I raised an eyebrow at him. A few of his attendants drew closer but kept their distance when I glanced over at them. “Whores. Succubi. Demons. Men-haters. These are fables made up by lesser men and spread by the weak.”  
  
“Above all you are deserters of the creed.” He retorted, pacing behind his desk and looking out the window. “The other terms are trivial and useless to me. What you lack most is _honour_. Loyalty.”  
  
“Al-Mualim, she has been more loyal to me than some of my own brothers.” Altair said cautiously. This caused the old man to turn around and stare with his mismatched eyes. It was a dangerous look. A warning look. Altair danced on the edge of a very lethal line, sat at the edge of a fire. “I will swear an oath if you wish. She is here for safety by my wish; nothing else.”  
  
“For all your wisdom gained of late, my child, you are still a man.” He said quietly, eyes focused on me. “You are still vulnerable to the cunning and dangerous ways of women. They can make you believe almost anything, if they wish it.”  
  
“ _Hamara._ ” I hissed, walking up to him. “I came here by his request but I can see that you would rather battle your own ally than aid them. You can keep your pathetic ramblings, old man. I will take my chances in Damas.”  
  
Without another word I turned on my heel and strutted off the platform. Altair reached out to try and stop me but a fire had been set beneath my feet and I evaded him completely, refusing to let him touch me. As if the action itself had the power to make me rethink. But in my rush, in my fury at the ignorance and blind fear passed down through generations, I failed to notice the real threat. It didn’t even register until Altair was calling out for someone to stop. But a pair of arms grabbed me from behind while another forced a cloth over my mouth and nose. It was doused with something that smelled plain but burned to breathe in. I squirmed and tried to force myself free, but every little victory I made was replaced by another set of hands. I could hear Altair still roaring somewhere in the distance but my whole world began to slip away, and soon there was nothing at all.  
  


* * *

  
Cold. When did it get so cold? I couldn’t remember the last time I had been in a place that lacked so much heat. So little warmth. My body stuttered awake as my mind eased out of a long but unhappy sleep. It took me a moment to register the sensations the rest of me was trying to bring to my attention. A pain in my spine from laying so long the wrong way. A thin layer of dirt over lifeless rock that dusted my clothing and my skin. An iciness to the air in my lungs. Voices in the distance that were wholly unfamiliar.  
  
I resisted the urge to sit up immediately at the recollection of what had happened. From what I could see I was in a cell. Around me were three stone walls and, judging from the feeling, bars separating me from the corridor. I forced myself to stay calm, but each passing second only let me count another missing object. No sword, no dagger, no necklace, _no snake._ Had it gotten away somehow? Had I finally seen the last of it?  
  
When I had a few minutes to come to terms with what my situation had dissolved into, I risked quietly sitting up and finally looking around at my prison. There were flame torches that shed a pitiful amount of light along the corridor and into the cell; but at least there was light. At least I had that. Now and again I could hear moans from some man in another cell. That didn’t frighten me though, and neither did being alone.  
  
What frightened me was the possibility that being in this cell would lead to my execution. Because as far as I knew, I was the only person not caught up in the hunt at Damascus. I was the only person who could try and orchestrate an attack—but not if my head was kissed by a swift blade.  
  
“I think she’s awake.” A hushed voice said. Light drew closer and I took a cautious step backwards as three young men approached me. They sported dangerous grins and one hold a blunt stick that he slipped between the bars and jabbed towards me. I stood my ground until he brought the stick closer with determination and I was forced backwards. This amused them.  
  
They called out things in an attempt to get me riled, to get me to speak and entertain them some more. All I did was cross my arms and stare at them. This should have bored them; it only made them angry. They berated me for at least an hour before finally leaving me be. I expected some formal announcement of a sentence or a questioning session or _something_ but there was nothing. Nothing save the prisoner’s weary moans and the occasional mouse that flittered by. This place was as desolate and hollow as a graveyard.  
  
Hours dragged on and I worked to keep my resolve. Now and again a cold draft would brush by and chill me to the bone; it made me struggle between my desire to inch closer to the small flame but also keep my distance from the bars. I kept telling myself that Altair would come. That he would find a way to free me, by Al-Mualim’s leave or not—but as the hours stretched on and on and on I began to second guess this. Had this been the plan from the beginning? Altair knew the inner workings of the Aeterna. He now even held the key to any base in the kingdom and the knowledge of how to use it. He knew some of my sisters and at least two of the Hakeema by name. Would my nightmare come true? Would he bring the destruction of the Aeterna—had _I_ brought the destruction of the Aeterna?  
  
The longer I was alone the more this thought began to eat away at me. It made sense, didn’t it? It would have been easy for an assassin to fake their way through simple interactions. For him to use me so perfectly. Gain my trust over time and wait for the perfect moment to strike. The Aeterna was vulnerable now; they could withstand the force of the guards…but not the force of Masyaf’s finest trained assassins and the guards. A deep and dark abyss ate away at me on the inside, filling me with a great void at the thought of this possibility.  
  
A modest meal of stale bread and some strange-smelling mushy substance was left for me but I feared to eat it; if there was no poison to kill me, the rancid ingredients would. I wondered, would they send my head back to the Aeterna? Would they mount it on a spike and wave it about like a banner of victory as they infiltrated the base and set the place ablaze? Would they bask in my sisters’ blood or come back to claim the ashes?  
  
When the man with the stick returned I reacted rashly, grabbing the stick suddenly and jabbing it into his eye. He cried out and the others came to his side, ready and willing to force open the door and come in to beat me or worse. I welcomed the attempt, because it gave me a fleeting chance to free myself. But one of them warned against it and called his followers away. The man with the stick—and now, the bloody eye—grabbed the torch off the wall in one last spiteful act and snuffed the flame out, plunging me into absolute darkness before stalking after his friends.  
  
This only furthered my fear, my paranoia. This place was everything that made me anxious. Unfriendly faces in an unforgiving place. I needed air, I needed open sky, I needed to _get out_. I would rather throw myself off the highest tower in Masyaf than rot away in this minute cell. I would suffocate, first. I would outgrow this place, first. The feeling of being trapped set a panic in my heart and I began to grow more and more anxious with every passing hour.  
  
I was aware of tiredness stinging my eyes, but I refused to give in. The thought of what might happen if I did submit to sleep was far more terrifying than my present situation. With no windows and no regular schedule of guards with which to gauge the time, I started to lose my grip on reality. I heard things and imagined hearing things and imagined not hearing things. Every time it happened I just got angry; when did I get so weak? Why couldn’t I keep myself together? _Why was being underground killing me slowly when I lived underground for so long as a young girl?_  
  
“You head will look pretty in a bucket, whore.”  
  
I turned around to see the trio had returned, just as disgruntled as before. They held a single torch that blessed me with light but I kept my distance. When they were certain they had my attention they started to heckle me again, demanding answers from me and trying over and over to set me off. With a clenched jaw I stayed against the back wall, arms crossed. I would wait them out just as I had. I would wait this all out. I had to. I had to…  
  
“Enough.” A voice called from the unseen depths of the corridor. The men all looked and two backed away but the third turned back and continued to berate me. I watched as the other two moved out of the way and a fourth figure entered the scene before me. He moved briskly, reaching his hand through the bars to hold the man’s arm steady so when he pushed, it broke with a deafening _crack!_ “I said _enough._ ”  
  
His cries dissolved into whimpers as the Levantine released him. The three of them skulked away and he turned to face me, hood casting strange shadows with the way the torch on the ground lit his face. He picked it up and put it on the wall before turning back to me. I kept my distance despite his actions, still drowning in the accusations and paranoia that this was all his plan.  
  
“Have you come to kill me or only deliver me to the executioner?” I said coldly, angry at myself for the wetness that pooled in my eyes. Why did I feel so betrayed? I should have known not to trust him. But even as the words hung in the air, he looked…put off. Almost offended.  
“I will not let them touch you.” He vowed quietly. “I will free you from this place.”  
  
As he spoke, my doubts dissolved. All the moments that he wouldn’t have indulged in had he been malicious came back to me. The gentility that he managed to treat me with, the fierce way he defended me—even after I had all but banished him from my presence, how he went out of his way to come back to me time and time again. I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed him to come to me until that moment.  
  
“Al-Mualim would likely have let you go…but your snake attacked the men who restrained you. It killed one of them.” He explained calmly, lingering close to the bars. “He is deciding if the price should be blood for blood, but I _swear_ to you, I will not let further harm fall upon you. Forgive me.”  
  
“They were not your actions, Altair.” I said softly. “The snake…did they?”  
  
“No. Some are studying the effects of its venom but it lives.”  
  
I nodded and hesitated for a moment before wandering up to the bars that separated us. My hands wrapped around the metal, coldness permeating my already cold skin. Being closer to the light made me feel better; being closer to _him_ made me feel better. He slowly drew closer and sighed before closing his hands around mine. It didn’t feel so helpless with him here. I almost believed he might actually be able to get me out of this place. But I doubted Al-Mualim would be so generous. The Levantine meant to move away but I locked our hands together and looked up at him.  
  
“Don’t leave me.” I pleaded quietly. I had never felt so vulnerable, so naked, as I did in that moment. I had never _begged_ anything of anyone. But he didn’t belittle me for it or use it against me; he only nodded and pressed his forehead against mine through the bars. His presence provided me with more comfort and warmth than the torch, and also served as a line of defense between any other Levantines.  
  
“Safety and peace, Altair.” A voice called from down the hallway. I immediately moved away from him and pressed my back to the wall. Altair turned to face the assassin who approached him and returned the greeting. “Al-Mualim wishes to speak with you.”  
  
He looked wearily at me but I nodded for him to go. Knowing he had not betrayed me and that I might live to see the daylight was enough to keep me grounded, keep me sane. After a moment’s hesitation the men left my presence and I was wrapped once more in near-silence. I slid down the wall and made myself comfortable on the ground, certain that whatever the verdict when Altair returned I would be leaving the cell—for better or worse.  
  
I passed the time by fixing the knots in my hair and tugging at loose threads on my robe. At least they had let me keep the red hood; they had not robbed me of that comfort. I understood why Altair wore his hood even in the company of my sisters and friends: it was such a source of security. To hide was to feel safe. A mouse flittered through the bars into my cell and wandered around the far side. Now and again he would grab something off the ground and sit up on his back legs, nibbling at it. He continued his raid of the cell until he seemed to realize there was a living, breathing thing much larger than he was and he ran off.  
  
The sound of keys jingling closer made me get to my feet and dust myself off as best as I could. Altair was following the same man as before, who eyed me cautiously before pulling a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. It creaked horridly as he pulled it open but I stayed put until Altair nodded. I bowed my head to the keeper of the keys and took wide steps around him into the corridor. Despite feeling better already merely coming out of the cell, the hallway was still dark and the ceiling low and the whole place smelling of frozen death.  
  
Altair said a few words to the man before gently pressing his hand against the small of my back and leading me away. I didn’t look into the cells we passed, but I could hear the men all shrivelled and dying in their prisons. It made me wonder how long it would’ve taken me to end up as frail and broken as they were. The assassin led me up numerous stairs that confirmed my belief that the prisons of Masyaf were deep underground; far deeper than any Aeterna base.  
  
“I need air…and open sky.” I said quietly when sunlight began to filter through the stairwell. He nodded and brought us to the first corridor above ground. The prison of Masyaf was rooted beneath the fortress itself, so I was lead right back through the hallways I had been through on my way in. We passed tapestries and paintings and bookshelves upon bookshelves, but he did not stop at any doorway nor at the main gates. Instead he brought me up the stairs that lead to Al-Mualim’s study and stopped at a small archway to a courtyard. He motioned for me go ahead and I took one step, but turned back to him. “Thank you, Altair.”  
  
The courtyard was massive and boasted three levels, fountains, canopies, and numerous sitting areas. It also boasted a harem of women that rivalled Sabeen’s. They all stuck together near one of the fountains and made eyes at the guards standing by the archway who tried to ignore their siren’s calls. They nodded to me as I passed and I returned the gesture, running my hands along the bannisters as I wormed down to the lowest level.  
  
The sight nearly took my breath away. It overlooked the vast mountain pass behind the city but also the gorge between the mountain sides and the river below. The fresh air was like silk in my lungs, the sound of birds chirping in the distance so much more pleasant than the cough of death. Green grass was at my feet and healthy plants all around. The beauty of all the nature put me at easy. I sat on the railing put up on the edge of the cliff face and let my hood down to feel the breeze work through my hair. If things were to suddenly change and I were to die, here wouldn’t be a bad place to go.  
  
“Al-Mualim has given you leave of the city.” Altair came up on my right side and leaned on the railing. “He said your snake will be returned when they have studied it more—he gave me his word they would not kill it.”  
  
I gave him a smile and reached over to pull his hood down. The gesture made him flinch and nearly pull the thing back up, but he looked around at the empty section of the courtyard and thought better of it.  
  
“Is this the part where you give me a tour of your city?” I teased, swinging my foot towards him and nudging his leg lightly, evoking a small smile out of him. Despite the peace and beauty of the place, part of me was still held in the prison below. It would take time to shake off the experience. “Show me your favourite spots to hide and have me meet all your brothers?”  
  
“Altair.” A guard called from the second level, drawing our attention. I put my feet back on solid ground and watched the armor-clad man. “Aziz calls for you in the training ring to teach the students.”  
  
“This should be fun.” I waited for him to accept the man’s request before turning to leave. I let my hand trail across his arm as I passed, but at the last moment he grabbed my hand and pulled me back to him. I nearly flinched at the sudden contact but I had no time to react.  
  
In a heartbeat he had one hand at the back of my head and the other at my waist, lips crashing against mine. The force of it pushed me back against one of the stone pillars where he kept me pinned. My body reacted before my mind caught up, hands going up to lock around his neck and lips greeting his hungrily. My tongue met his as his hands moved along my sides, the closeness and intimacy having been a foreign concept for so long.  
  
It frightened me how much I was kissing back, how easily my body curled towards him and welcomed every advance or touch or shallow breath against my skin. I didn’t care that there were others in the courtyard, didn’t care that Al-Mualim could look out the window at any moment and find another reason to try and kill me or call me a sorceress-demon-whore. All I cared about was the way he held me, the way he cared more about kissing me than breathing, the way he tasted.  
  
When at last he pulled away it was only a few centimetres and only due to our heavy breathing. His forehead lay pressed against mine, thumb brushing against my cheek, as I let my hands slide down his chest. He pressed his lips against mine once more, only for a moment, before pulling up his hood and walking away from me entirely.  
  
If I was meant to follow, my body did not allow for the immediate obedience the action required. I stood against the pillar, chest heaving, mind trying to fathom what had just happened. More than anything it terrified me. More than anything it confused me. What did it mean? Where did that leave us? He saw fit to pull a stunt like that and just leave without a word—but that was very much an Altair thing to do. So few words, such reserved actions. When I finally caught my breath I wiped my mouth across my sleeve and attempted to ignore the elevated rate of my heart. With courage and confusion I set off after him, trying not to imagine how I would explain this to Yasmine, to my sisters, to the _Hakeema_. After all, he was the enemy…but also my halif.


	12. Sanctuary

“It seems my students do not fully understand what it is to wield a blade.” Aziz said from the training grounds below the front gates of the fortress. A large group of _kasrs_ stood around, visibly separate from their superiors by the colour and style of their robes, and looked to Altair as he approached. Some of their eyes came to me, but most pretended I was not there. I watched my Levantine approach their leader near the fence that enclosed a fighting ring. “Perhaps you could show them what you know.”  
  
He nodded, but instead of moving forward he turned to me. Calling my name, he beckoned me towards the student wielding his sword in the middle of the ring. All eyes turned to me as I descended the stairs, taking comfort in the fact that I was once more clad in my weapons. All I lacked was the snake, and then I would be complete. The boys muttered amongst themselves as I passed, which only served me better; let them judge and mock and belittle. It would make it so much easier to tear them down.  
  
“You want me to fight _her_?” The boy looked from Aziz to Altair and back to me with wide eyes. “But…She’s a girl.”  
  
I hopped into the ring and immediately knocked the sword out of his hand before tripping him to the ground. The other _kasrs_ howled with laughter but the boy frowned as he got to his feet and went after his sword. When he bent over to claim it I knocked him down again, pulling the sword towards me with my foot and crossing both blades against his neck.  
  
“That’s not fair!” He cried. “I wasn’t ready.”  
  
“Do you think your enemy will care if you are ready or not?” Aziz called out as he paced the ring. “You must _always_ be ready, even when you sleep. Beyond the walls of Masyaf every step you take is a chance for the enemy to kill you or worse—torture you for secrets.”  
  
“Never turn your back on someone with a blade.” I said quietly, flipping the handle so he could reach out and take it. He did, albeit hesitantly, and got back to his feet. I immediately moved towards him and this time he was ready, blocking my first swing and pulling his arm back to counter my next. He was half-decent at blocking, but he looked too frightened underneath the bravado. I stepped back and gave him the opportunity to go on the offensive. He hesitated greatly, resisting the urge to look over at his mentor, before lunging forward messily. I quickly dodged the attack and moved behind him to press my blade against his neck. “I could have killed you a dozen ways in the time it took you to realize where I went.”  
  
“Your blade is an extension of your body. You are all weapons, and these blades are your arms. You must keep your movements crisp and calculated. Above all: you must see the blade as the difference between your life and death. Ahmed, you next.”  
  
The boy in front of me slouched out of the ring while his successor came towards the ring. There was a collective cheer at the notion and the boy had an arrogance about him that I looked forward to beating down. I heard them say things, egging him on to beat me. But he said only one thing when he entered the ring.  
“There is no honour in defeating a woman. But an Aeterna…” He grinned, raising his sword to point at me. “Now that’s a hood I’d like to one day hang on my wall.”  
  
If his words were meant to antagonize me, I didn’t let them. He immediately rushed at me, battle cry and all, bringing his sword down as if it were an axe. I slipped out of the way and took precaution to remember this was not an actual fight and I was not allowed to actually hurt him. I tried to knock away his sword with mine but he turned at the last moment and blocked the attack. I had to hand it to him, his defense was solid and his attacks had the potential to be deadly. But he was far too eager.  
  
Where I waited patiently to move at the best time, he favoured brute strength and forceful attacks. The more I dodged, the angrier he became. A few times I nearly knocked him off his balance which only seemed to set the flame beneath him even more. But the angrier I made him the easier it was to confuse and tire him. When the time was right I defeated him in a few quick moves, pressing my foot to his chest and my blade to his throat as he growled. He pushed my foot off of him and quickly got to his feet, storming out of the ring and over to a man who was glaring at me. The man hissed some insult about the Aeterna, to which I had no intention of responding to, but someone else clearly did.  
  
“You are wrong, Abbas.” A young kasr said above the crowd. Everyone turned to watch him as he stepped closer. The man, Abbas, put his hand on what looked like his son’s shoulder. But the boy, he was addressing me. “You are the one they call Snake Eater, are you not?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Before my brother and I came to Masyaf, before I knew of any Levantines or Aeterna, she helped me. The guards meant to cut off my hand when I stole food for my little brother, but she stopped them. It was her—and her sisters, the other ones with the red hoods—who gave us food and safety when no others would. They are not our enemies.”  
  
I had seen a hundred beggar boys in my day and this one did not seem familiar, but the notion of his story was touching nonetheless. The others were harder to read, but for the most part they were looking amongst each other for some guide as to how to react to the story. Abbas and his son ignored it entirely and strode off, and the atmosphere slowly settled back down.  
  
“Altair, why don’t you go in the ring?” Aziz prompted with a grin. “Show the boys a fair fight.”  
  
It was disarming that Aziz did not follow up with an insult, and it helped to put me at ease. Perhaps there were three in all of Masyaf that did not believe my purpose was to sleight them. Altair looked over at me once before complying. It wasn’t until he was in the ring before me that I realized this might not be the best idea. Because every second my eyes lingered on him, I had the urge to go over and kiss him. I could not, for the life of me, push the memory of moments before out of my mind. But beyond that, I couldn’t ignore the questions burning inside me. I had so many things I needed to ask but didn’t want to say.  
  
He let me make the first move. Together, in the elaborately decorated ring of Masyaf’s training grounds, our swords met with a vicious kiss. The snake and the eagle, battling as equals. When the metal met I was able to remember the thrill of a true fight, and used that to fuel my movements. To fight a worthy opponent was almost a gift. Our feet glided in a similar fashion and our swings mimicked one another, as if the time spent fighting side by side had drawn our opposing methods into a more moderate agreement.  
  
I would dodge and he would counter and the attacks could not find their marks. It felt like the sky and ocean on the horizon trying to battle for a dominance that the equilibrium would never allow. My heart rate sped up the faster we moved, both of us going back and forth and round and round like an unscripted dance sequence. It almost made it harder to fight him, not because of his skill, but because we knew each other on a deeper level. We had seen each other battle great enemies and had time to admire one another’s tactics and strategies—and quite honestly, adapt some of them for ourselves.  
  
The more we fought the more I realized that it quite possibly could continue until one of us simply gave out from exhaustion rather than having been bested by skill. We moved around one another like water, always coming close to making contact but never actually touching. As if it was a game. As if it was a challenge. I understood that there was only one way that I would come out of this victorious, and that was to play dirty. When he moved in for an attack I let him get too close, let his blade graze my skin.  
  
I immediately cried out, backing away and gripping the spot where it hurt. I showed enough pain to make him drop his guard, to make him believe he’d actually hurt me. I couldn’t tell if it was more amusing or touching, the amount of minute concern he allowed his face to show. He took half a step towards me, eyes burning on the spot I held and the winces I forced out. The crowd was cheering, but I seized the opportunity to lunge at him, throw his sword across the ring, and knock him completely off balance. He landed on the ground with a thud and I pounced on top of him, straddling his hips and leaning close. My sword, this beautiful gift he had bestowed upon me, was pressed against his throat in the penultimate _I win._  
  
A smirk spread across my face as the crowd went silent, filled with disbelief that their great assassin had been bested by a woman. But as I sat there, our eyes locked and chests heaving, I suddenly remembered why Altair Ibn-La’Ahad was dangerous in more ways than one. Because I was all too aware of the way his body felt against mine, of the way he had managed to root himself deep inside all my darkest corners. I was all too aware that I would not easily purge him from my system—and that perhaps I did not want to.  
  
After a moment I sheathed my sword and pushed off his chest to get to my feet. I offered him a hand and he took it, letting me aid in heaving him up while aligning our halif scars. Perhaps it was nothing or perhaps it was something, but I felt a stronger pull this time. As if the bond was acknowledging some deep truth that we had yet to discover.  
  
There were calls that I was a cheat, that it wasn’t fair, but Aziz was the one who came to my defense. He chastised the boys that there was no such thing as cheating in a real fight; only winners and those who die. He spoke of using any and every possible means to throw off the enemy and come out victorious—come out alive. As long as it did not involve breaking a tenet of the Creed.  
  
“Did I make an enemy out of that boy and his father?” I asked of Altair as two boys were ushered into the ring to begin lessons once more. He shook his head, crossing his arms beside me and keeping his eyes on the fight.  
  
“Abbas has despised me for many years.” He explained. “We were once friends, but there were…complications. My father sacrificed his life for Abbas’ father, but he could not live with the guilt. He killed himself in front of me. Abbas believes this to be a lie, a personal attack on him. He cannot see reason.”  
  
He stiffly reached over and took my arm, brushing his thumb over the place I’d let his blade touch. There was a little blood visible through the tear in my sleeve but nothing that hurt significantly. Still, he held it and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he count it as another scar on my body that he was responsible for? Or did he fail to realize that our relationship since day one had consisted of swapping scars in one way or another, and somehow always finding ways to patch them up?  
  
“I have business with Al-Mualim, but Karim will take you to my home.” He nodded to a man who approached us with a half-smile and peaceful demeanor. “I will return by sunset.”  
  
His hand gently brushed against my arm before he slipped through the crowds and out of sight. Karim introduced himself with few words and motioned for me to follow him. He led me through the gate of the fortress and down the path carved into the mountain that fed into the city below. It was lined with guards who were no more than a precaution and perhaps keepers of the peace. Passing through the streets a second time helped me to familiarize myself with its twists and turns, if only a little more. At least the homes were reminiscent of Damascus. Simple homes, no great manors or different districts: it was one unified city. A city made for and kept by the Levantines.  
  
When we started to turn down a street with a dead end I asked Karim if instead we could go to the market first. He nodded and changed directions, heading back towards the city’s main gates before turning right and entering the small marketplace of the city. I didn’t have much coin with me, but there was enough to buy some food for a meal or two. I figured that the nature of Altair’s work meant he did not often find reason to keep much food in his stores.  
  
The vendors I dealt with were kind and did not seem to notice or care about the red hood that covered my head. I wandered from stall to stall and haggled a few prices until I was content with what I had to work with. Karim helped me to carry the food back up to Altair’s home. It was so fitting; the last house in the row that overlooked the deep waters below the cliff. No neighbouring windows to look out at during the night time when sleep was rare. It was quieter here than in the rest of the city.  
  
Karim and I parted ways at the door after I thanked him and let myself in. It was a small space but one that I found comfort in. It was simple and warm and peaceful, here. I wandered around the place first, taking in the sights and smells of the cooking and eating area before going up the narrow staircase to the bedroom. It had a small balcony partitioned by intricately decorated wooden panels that pulled away like window covers. I leaned against the railing and basked in the peace for as long as I dared before returning below to begin preparing the food.  
  
I also took it upon myself to clean up a bit, but made sure not to touch anything that looked like it could be important. There were half-opened letters and books that I didn’t bother reading through despite my curiosity lying on bookshelves and tables. I found myself wanting to know every part of this place, to be as familiar with it as he was with my home.  
  
Once the food was cooking slowly over the fire I started, I went upstairs to the bathroom and began to pump the water into the washing basin. The river water was much clearer than what we had in Damascus, probably because the water here was mostly untouched by humans. It was also colder than what I was used to, but soon enough I was used to it and exhaled deeply while sinking into the water. Here, in this moment, it was hard to believe that I had been a prisoner hours before. But the longer I sat there, the more my mind kept drifting back to Altair. Had his body always felt that way when touching mine or was that new? Things felt very different but the same at once.  
  
Give me a target and consider them killed. Tell me to gather information and it is already known. But this…this was a different world to me. When I was with Rami, I was with him because I thought that was what was meant to happen. I assumed it was the natural course, I assumed the feelings were true and that my life would be reduced to that. But over the course of a few minutes Altair managed to set fire to everything I thought I knew about the subject; about what I thought things were.  
  
When I was clean I put my robes back on and let the water drain out before going back to tend to the food. I sat by the fire and read a book off the shelf about the history of Masyaf while my hair dried. It wasn’t until the sunlight had almost deserted the house and all the lanterns were lit that the door opened. Altair’s chest was heaving slightly but the moment he closed the door, he pulled back his hood. I offered a small smile and he approached me with a small basket. His eyes danced over all the food as he knelt before me, offering the woven container. I took it hesitantly and opened the lid to see the snake, my snake, peeping out. I gave a sigh of relief and immediately took it into my hands, inspecting it gingerly for any scars or marks. It seemed to be fine but wasted no time in reaching out to nestle around my neck.  
  
“Thank you.” I said sincerely, eyes watering suddenly. The thought of losing the snake affected me so deeply for reasons that weren’t entirely clear. It did not belong to me, we never conversed—I did not even know if it was a male or a female. But it had been with me through the most crucial parts of my life and always managed to come back to me no matter how long it stayed away. By now it felt much more a part of me than a companion.  
  
I didn’t bother asking what Al-Mualim had wanted, knowing that even if he could tell me it likely would not have concerned me much. I trusted that anything vital would be passed on. Instead he helped me bring the food to the table and we sat across from one another. We had eaten together more times than I could count, with others and alone, and yet this time was different. How could a kiss have changed things on such small levels but so consistently? Despite any feeble attempt at talking of war or Templars or the city, somehow none of the words were as loud as the way we kept stealing glances at one another. As if the kiss was a confession, a weapon of its own, a destructive force that tore down barriers but also showcased what lay beneath the barriers.  
  
When the food was finished I watched the snake slink off into the night to find a meal of its own. I announced I would be upstairs at the window, half tempted to ask him to follow. But the way he looked at me, I figured he would. He had a look on his face of half-swallowing his words, and I knew that with enough time they would force their way out and he would come find me. It was cooler upstairs because the fire had not been set and the night air was filling up the room. I was alone for less than half an hour before his footsteps loomed up behind me.  
  
He leaned against the wall beside me as I looked out at the river far below. The moon rippled along its surface as the wind pushed the curtains back; I waited for him to speak first.  
  
“Were my actions wrong?” He asked plainly, facing me. I raised an eyebrow at him and straightened up. He did the same and braced himself.  
  
“If I was adverse to your actions, do you truly believe you would still have hands?” I challenged weakly. He exhaled and took a step closer. This time, I didn’t give him the upper hand. This time, I needed to show him that my hunger was just as fierce, my need just as deep.  
  
With a sense of resolve I drew closer and brought his lips to mine. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t offer a façade of self-control. His hands immediately found their place on my body, and I was left wondering how I had gone so long without this, without him this way. When had things changed? When had I stopped wanting to kill him and started wanting to have him?  
  
His hands grabbed hold of my legs and lifted me up, pressing me against the wall while I wrapped myself around him. Again and again he came at me, as if he might actually succeed in devouring me whole. I familiarized my fingertips with his skin, determined to commit every part of him to memory. As he peeled off his tunic the tattoos offered paths for my hands to glide along, like some secret combination that I was given access to. I felt the scar on his abdomen that marked the proverbial turning point and mused at the way he bit at my lip in response.  
  
Keeping a firm grip on me, he moved away from the wall and brought us to the space in front of the bed. I freed myself and set my feet on the ground, turning us around so the bed was behind him when I pushed. He fell backwards and looked up at me as I brought back memories of all the times I’d watched the girls in the brothels warm up the men. I mimicked what they had done to drive them crazy, what they wanted to see. Because for the first time, I _did_ want to give him something he wanted. I tugged at the hem of my long tunic, inching it up bit by bit until I could pull it right over my head.  
  
It was such a strangely invasive thing, to be naked in front of someone, but it was such a plain sentiment of trust. I pushed on his shoulders until he was leaning back and then I crawled forward onto his lap, bringing his lips to mine for only a moment before trailing kisses down his torso. He released a sigh and tangled one hand in my hair, gripping tighter as I kissed each hipbone and moved back up to his lips. Sitting up straight and straddling his hips, I let his eyes wander over me while I worked off his pants. Without hesitation I reached down and guided him into me, bracing myself on his shoulders.  
  
This was the way it had always been with Rami. I was always in control, always in the lead, always dictating the moves. He never bothered to propose anything different so I figured that it was how things would always be. But Altair, he sat up and used his hands to guide my waist while he pressed his lips against my collarbones and chest. And as my hands settled around his neck, he grabbed me tightly and turned us over so my back hit the mattress. It was disorienting at first, but when he used his strength to hold my hands down I realized that he would be the only man in the world I would ever allow to control me, even in such a restricted way. There was only him.  
  
Every time his lips graced my skin he forced a quiet moan from my throat, which must have been his end goal because he did it again and again. As his hips pushed against mine he released some of his own, which only made my heart rate faster. I pressed my legs against his sides and revelled in the feeling of his skin brushing against mine. Nothing compared, though, to when he released me and dragged his right hand all the way down my body to work at me in unison with the rest of him. My back arched and lungs stuttered for more air as he breathed my name like a quiet promise.  
  
I wrapped my arms around him as best as I could, nails inadvertently marking his skin as he moved faster. No part of me believed the feeling was possible, and some part of me was angry that I had been denied this up until now. He was in tune with the way my body started to tense and made a point to slow his pace which only made the tension unbearable. I was on the verge of begging when I finally peaked and clutched at him, trembling slightly. He rocked against me a few more times and I felt his body tense up and then relax, a communal sigh escaping the both of us. He slid his hands into my hair, looking me in the eye while we both struggled for breath, before kissing me once more. As if making up for all the times we should have, but didn’t.  
  
When at last we fell away from each other, I was certain the heat between us would last the whole night. Sweat glued my hair against my face, but when a breeze rolled in I shivered. He pulled me against him, arm wrapping around me as he pulled the blanket over us. Part of it didn’t feel real, even as I traced my fingertips back and forth along the dips of his collarbones. His hand absently ran through my hair and I shut my eyes, moving closer into his grasp. He fell asleep before I did, but by the time the lantern burnt out I was another victim of unconsciousness.  
  


* * *

The next time my eyes opened, the sun was there to greet me. It filtered in through the open balcony and reflected off the lanterns onto the ceiling in diamonds. For a moment I was calm; for a moment I was at peace. But feeling his skin against mine and his chest rise to press against my back with every breath only made me panic. It was just like it had been after he kissed me; there were too few words to gauge the situation. I began to overthink and worry and it made me feel weak which made me feel vulnerable which made me want to flee. I gently eased myself out of his grasp, suddenly all-too aware of how naked I was in both senses of the word. My feet swung over the edge of the bed and I looked down at the snake curled up in the pile of my clothing directly in the beam of sunlight. I calculated the number of steps it would take me to get to my clothes and wondered how quietly I could escape while I edged off the bed. At the last moment, though, I felt his hand reach out and wrap around my arm.  
  
“Stay.” He asked in a quiet, sleep-ridden voice. The contact gave me goosebumps and I turned back to look at him. His eyes were half-shut but he watched intently as I slowly caved in and settled back down. In his sleepy haze he took my hand in his and lined up our halif scars before bringing his lips to the back of my hand. Somehow the small action helped to calm my frantic mind and I relaxed.  
  
Remembering the night before only made me think that when I returned to Damascus I would have to see the Hakeema about the tea they gave to keep my belly from swelling with a child. Only, then I began to think about what it would be like to have a child—not in general terms, but with Altair. Could we be a family? Could we bring life amidst the death we left behind?  
  
“Ariyah.” He said seriously, eyes now wide awake. I realized the worry was painting itself on my face and worked quickly to erase it. He hesitantly reached out to touch my cheek but instead sat up a little. “If you wish for this to stop…”  
  
“I wish for the opposite.” I confessed in a small voice, bringing his hand back to me. “I fear it will stop, but worse I fear what will happen if it doesn’t.”  
  
He made no attempt to promise me things he couldn’t possible foresee. There were no facts about what would come, no unshakable beliefs that all would be well at all times. Instead, he pulled me close and kissed me again, as if to promise that these fears were not mine to harbour alone. That perhaps they had a home in him as well. I held onto him tightly, wondering how I had ever gotten by without this, without him, without such an impossible sanctuary.  
  
The peace was interrupted by a loud rapping on the door downstairs. It startled me and I immediately sat up straight, clutching the blankets against my skin. He sported a small smirk as he got to his feet and pulled on his pants and tunic. He took wide steps around the snake nestled in my clothes and disappeared down the stairs. I lingered there for a few moments before getting dressed myself, pulling the snake against my neck and letting it get comfortable. I was working through some of the knots in my hair when he returned, though the calmness and content look was replaced with a hardened stare. He handed me a rolled up letter with a broken seal. It had his name written along it, but when I unrolled it my name sat at the top.  
  
I recognized the hand at once as Rami’s. My heart sank a little—out of worry and out of guilt. I had been so wrapped up in the new city and Altair that I had barely given any thought to how to fix the situation in Damascus. But Rami, with the help of the sisters, had jump started that. I read over the letter twice before finally explaining to Altair.  
  
“The day we left, Yasmine and I had been waiting for Rami to return from speaking with the Imam at the masjid. He said he had something important to tell us, but we never found out what it was.” I handed him the letter and let him read over the list of names. “Those are the men in the city guard and upper circles who know too much about the Aeterna. Those are the men I have to kill.”  
  
“Jubair was named?” He said before handing it back and taking a few steps closer. I nodded, going over the names once more and beginning to plan who I would go to first and how I would get this done.  
  
“There is a chance I can gather some of my sisters and plan a city-wide ambush…Hit them all at once so they cannot warn one another.”  
  
“I will ask some of my brothers to aid you.” He said simply, as if he had not just pledged to unite our rival assassin organizations. I looked up at him, seeing all the familiar parts of him but the new ones too, and absently reached out for his hand. Standing there with him felt like a deep breath before the plunge, the calm before the storm, the numb sensation before the pain finally sets in. But I was thankful to have him there to brace myself with.


End file.
